They're listed in the yelow pages as auctioneers. And apparently they do have auctions regularly.
LIBRA AUCTIONEERS - It's only too easy to miss it as you go down Lal Bagh Road - that dusty tarred one way track with it's unruly(to put it politely) traffic. And if you look closely enough at all the signs up on the road side you'll see it, a small white board with blue lettering almost hidden inside a patch of dust covered bushes. You enter through a pair of wooden gates that was probably last painted just before the Independence, and you walk past some glorious old trees that have miraculously survived the onslaught of this Garden City's rampant deforestation policy. And you come to a huge shelter stacked with everything you could think of. Babycots, sofa sets, fridges, cupboards, washing machines, a guitar or two, a piano sometimes ...all in remarkably good shape. But these are only the pieces up for auction. The real treasures lie further beyond in a decaying building that still screams British Raj.
You enter and a faint smell of mothballs and antiquity hits you. At this point one must be careful not to trip over one's jaw. Because the array of objects d'art is phenomenal. From tiny glass figurines to intricately carved pipes to huge grandfather clocks, to treasure chests, to old radios and record players to stained glass wall hangings... One almost senses history floating past.
Huge mahagony cupboards with glass doors reveal a world of artistry. Exquisite dinner sets vie for attention with crystal lamps. And if you look carefully you'll probably notice the stack of old medical books are lying on a table that is artistry itself. Tapestries that are a feast for both eyes and soul look at you from walls that are cluttered with paintings and mirrors and an assortment of other little knick-knacks that make your heart glad only to look at it...
Libra Auctioneers.
It's an experience unlike any other. There's no courteous but nevertheless annoying service. There's dust everywhere and a wizened old man will confer for several minutes with his bearded boss before he tells you the price of anything...and yet...it's like stepping back into time. And as the Westminister chime from the huge clock in the corner peals out the hour one wonders if civilization as we percieve it is really progress or not.
