52W52B - Book 17 A Town called Dehra

In the past few months, I haven’t read one book which is not either heavy or full of serious knowledge. I was a little tired of both of them, and that was a perfect timing for a Ruskin Bond! My state of mind at that time must have been identical to that of Bond’s when he wrote the following words:

I had no ambitions to be a great writer, or even a famous one, or even a rich one. All I wanted to do was write. And I wanted a few readers and the occasional cheque so that I could carry on living my dream.

Refreshing, isn’t it?

I wanted a light, soft book. And Ruskin Bond provided exactly that. Its sad to admit but this book turned out to be rather disappointing.

The book is divided in four sections:

1. A childhood in the shade of Lichi tree: Here Ruskin Bond shares stories of his childhood, how he was separated from his father for studies, and how he loved walking with his father on the Dehra roads. I loved their connection. One story that stayed with me was The Photograph, in which he finds a photograph of a girl with mischievous eyes, and asks his grandmother about her. The photograph is that of his grandmother but she doesn’t tell him, even though he knows just by looking at her grandmother’s eyes. Other than this story, rest of the part describes trees, roads, gramophone and so on. The “Ruskin Bond effect” was missing.
2. A vagrant in the Doon valley: I was about to give up on the book, when the second section started – and I was hooked. The second section was the true Bond material: subtle in describing people around, and then subtly making you smile (I started smiling in the local after reading some part of the book, and continued smiling for long. Am sure my co-passengers felt that I was in love). There is no other author that I have read who made living in slow, dusty, and sad towns of India glamorous. The way he describes life of those places, it feels that if there is a bliss in this world, its in those towns – Dehradoon in this case. The slow life, when no one is in a hurry, and those ponds and trees and uncrowded roads to walk!! And his NOSTALGIA:

We move on, of course. There’s no point in hankering after distant pleasures and host picture palaces. But there’s no harm in indulging in a little nostalgia.

His non-descript rented rooms, meagre possessions and un-splendid people become dazzling when he starts to describe them. He is such a good writer that he even made buffalo glamorous:

There is nothing more satisfying to watch than buffaloes wallowing in mud, or ruminating over a mouthful of grass, absolutely oblivious to everything else.

This part was the best. It was so sweet that I felt “awwwww” towards it. Just before I actually uttered that word, did I stop myself

3. In my twenties: Writing and Living: Here he mentions about his living. I was still hopeful after reading the previous part that I will encounter something soothing. But there was nothing much in this section.

4. Looking for the Dehra I know: This part is about when Ruskin looks back to the current Dehradun now, and when he compares it with old one. By this time I had given up on the book, and read it only to complete it.

Rather than this one, I would recommend Tales of the Open road and Dust on the mountain: Collected Stories. 

PS: I have skipped the review of quite a few books. That's why Book #17 immediately after Book #7