Our Trees Still Grow in Dehra - Ruskin Bond

 “It was a warm spring evening, and the walls of the bungalow were aflame with bougainvillea.” You know it’s a Ruskin Bond book when you see such beautifully crafted masterpieces. My 10^th Ruskin Bond book, his words still inspire me, and makes me want to write more and more.

This book is dedicated to the author’s connection with his soul-land Dehra, before it became Dehradun. A collection of 14 fine chapters describing life in and around Dehra. In addition to the obvious love for mountains and mountain creeks, there are some chapters elucidating young Bonds’ relationship with his father, mother, grandmother, grandfather, and Prem – a help turned adopted family. The writing like his many others paints the emotional connection between him and the foothills.

What I liked

Truth or Not – Some of the incidents like ‘Escape from Java’ and ‘The bar that time forgot’ are shaped with such close references to the author’s personal life that it leaves a dubious reader confused as to whether the story is real or not. But the truth is, it does not matter, the words have the power to create life-like images in our mind, and that is real enough.

Inspiring – I cannot vouch for anyone else, but Ruskin Bond words have always stood as an inspiration for me to write, and I have in fact started with my next piece of writing, which I hope to finish soon.

Collectibles

As mentioned in the beginning Ruskin Bond books are always full of gorgeous depictions of the nature which never ceases to amaze me:

-        It was summer in the hills and the trees were in new leaf. The walnuts and cherries were just beginning to form between the leaves.

While talking about the transformation of Dehra from being a heaven to a heavily ill-constructed concrete jungle Dehradun, the author says these:

-        Thirty years ago, fields extended on either side of this road, as far as the eye could see. The Ridge, an outcrop of the Aravallis, was scrub jungle, in which the black buck roamed. Feroz Shah's 14th century hunting lodge stood here in splendid isolation. It is still here, hidden by petrol pumps and lost within the sounds of buses, cars, trucks and scooter-rickshaws. The peacock has fled the forest, the black buck is extinct. Only the jackal remains. When, a thousand years from now the last human has left this contaminated planet for some other star the jackal and the crow will remain, to survive for years on all the refuse we leave behind.

Reference about his relationship with a somewhat strict grandmother and how, he as a young boy acknowledged her non expressive style of affection:

-        This reference to my appearance did not displease me. Grandmother never indulged in praise. For her to have observed my pimples indicated that she was fond of me.

I have an ideal reading place at my home, the extended veranda over the first floor car porch. During the evenings, when sun is about to set, the golden rays reflect on its grey stone paved walls and fall upon the floor tiles adorned with golden maple leaf images. Sitting on my cane recliner, accompanied by the gentle breeze glancing over my shoulder, a book like this has a magical way to put your heart at ease.