The hills come alive under his artistic mastery of words.
He bonds with the mountains, them becoming his companion.
The stories are light, descriptive and emotional.
The characters are real, simple and loving.
He writes about the old Europeans who made the hills their homes, had large homes and bigger hearts.
The Sahibs and Memsahibs and the Indian kids who went to English schools.
His stories do not have ill-will, they do not speak of treachery.
They carry the innocence of childhood even in the old, the generosity of friendship even in the poor.
Bond's language is simple just like the mountain people. His feeling is real.
''Great trees of the mountains, they know me well. They know my face in the window, they see me watching them, watching them grow listening to their secrets, bowing my head before their outstretched arms and seeking their benediction.''
I remember reading one of his books when I was just a young girl, imagining and wanting that life.
Today, I would love to visit his mountains, smell the pines and deodars, walk along the lanes and experience Mussoorie as he describes it.
Read Ruskin Bond's " The Prospect of Flowers" for the love of nature, for the beauty of friendship, for the joy of caring.
No comments:
Post a Comment