Skip to main content

Ruskin Bond at Ninety


I stood face to face with Ruskin Bond. He had his characteristic genial smile on his face. My face must have revealed a helpless inhibition which held me back from going to him and the simultaneous desire to go to him and say a Hi at least. I would have loved to have a conversation with him, however brief.

That was in 2003. I had taken a student of mine from school for an award ceremony organised by ITC at the ITC Hotel in Mumbai. My student was one of the 15 prize-winners of a short story competition conducted by ITC and their newly launched brand of student-oriented products named Classmate. The awards were being presented by Ruskin Bond who would also release the story anthology.

My student who won the award was a fan of Ruskin Bond. But he did not seem the least interested in meeting his favourite writer personally and getting an autograph. He was with the other prize-winners who were all imprinting autographs on one another’s white T-shirts presented to them by ITC and which they were wearing then. They had been together nearly two days during which span of time they seemed to have become very intimate with each other. Ruskin Bond was watching the young students with visible amusement. I was watching him with some longing in my heart.

Bond was 69 years old then. I was 43. His face bore the tranquillity of a mature sexagenarian. Mine must have revealed the trepidations of an adolescent who failed to grow up. I averted my gaze when Bond took notice of me. He must have wondered why I was staring at him. Soon the organisers of the programme arrived on the scene and the dinner started.

Today, as a sexagenarian, I do feel a regret as I recall this incident. Why did I remember it now? I’m reading Bond’s book, The Golden Years: The Many Joys of Living a Good Long Life (HarperCollins India, 2023). A very simple book written when Bond was 89 years old. He is a nonagenarian now. And still writing. 

Right in the first chapter of the book, Bond wonders why writers should retire at all. Age gives people more maturity if not more wisdom. Moreover, “there is a certain joy in writing,” Bond says, “in putting words down on paper and creating a story or a poem or a novel or even a memoir; and if no one else enjoys what you have composed, never mind, you have done it for yourself and your own pleasure.”

I liked that. Because I have decided to go on writing as long as I can. It doesn’t matter how many read what I write. As of now, I have a good readership and I’m thrilled about that. Here’s a screenshot of the latest stats of this blog. [A pat on my own back] 

Screenshot at 9.30 pm on 2 July 2024

Bond goes on to say that the human brain is at its most fertile in our later years because years of experience nurtures such fertility. He cites examples of eminent writers who were highly active in their old age. “Well into her eighties Agatha Christie was inventing crimes for her detective Hercule Poirot… P G Wodehouse, when ninety, was still regaling us with the exploits of Bertie Wooster and his butler Jeeves…” Bond also mentions Bernard Shaw, Somerset Maugham, R K Narayan, Mulk Raj Anand and Khushwant Singh. Nayantara Sehgal is still writing at ninety-six, he concludes the list. Sehgal is now 97 and still writing, I guess.

We grew up in a troubled world, Bond says, and we are still living in a troubled world. It will always be so because humans are troublesome by nature. If you have survived your sixties, it means you know how to live with all those troubles. Why not tell the world how you managed all that? I think that’s a good argument.

I’m not very sure whether I have really learnt how to survive all those troubles. I am still a debilitated individual, 64 years old, highly inhibited, incapable of standing face to face with any adult, let alone Ruskin Bond. I stake no claim to any sort of wisdom. If I have survived beyond sixty, it’s a mystery, not because of any skill of mine for sure. But I may go on like this because I usually deal with youngsters who haven’t acquired the malice of the adults yet.

Comments

  1. Hari OM
    To my shame, I have never read anything from RB... will have to add that to my bucket list... YAM xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. This is quite a simple book about old age. The simplicity is a charm, of course, particularly because of the underlying practical wisdom.

      Delete
  2. One should write as long as one gets something out of the writing. He's right about the experience old age gives people. Do the young want to hear it? Maybe not. But writing is something anyone can do, so why not? And, of course you should write what you want for as long as you want. As long as you continue to enjoy it.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Love his writing. He fills my Kindle to keep me entertained! A few paperbacks too. Hope to meet up with him some day! 🤞

    ReplyDelete
  4. I want to meet him. I hope I will be able to soon. A great author... simplicity in his life as well as writing.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Ruskin Bond is such an amazing writer. His simple and beautiful style of writing has some magic.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Yes, being with youngsters makes one feel young. When I was working I was a part of a group of youngsters. They never treated me as an old, experienced aunt agony though they often poured their hearts out to me. Perhaps I am a good listener and not a babbler. I can strike up a conversation with any and everyone if they are not too snooty and conscious of their moneyed status. I am a Bond fan too. And I have also decided to go on writing whatever I feel like till I can no matter who reads me or likes my writing. On second thought you should have said hullo to him though am like you. I can never say to anyone, "Hullo sir! Am your big fan "

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

The Second Crucifixion

  ‘The Second Crucifixion’ is the title of the last chapter of Dominique Lapierre and Larry Collins’s magnum opus Freedom at Midnight . The sub-heading is: ‘New Delhi, 30 January 1948’. Seventy-three years ago, on that day, a great soul was shot dead by a man who was driven by the darkness of hatred. Gandhi has just completed his usual prayer session. He had recited a prayer from the Gita:                         For certain is death for the born                         and certain is birth for the dead;                         Therefore over the inevitable                         Thou shalt not grieve . At that time Narayan Apte and Vishnu Karkare were moving to Retiring Room Number 6 at the Old Delhi railway station. They walked like thieves not wishing to be noticed by anyone. The early morning’s winter fog of Delhi gave them the required wrap. They found Nathuram Godse already awake in the retiring room. The three of them sat together and finalised the plot against Gand

The Final Farewell

Book Review “ Death ends life, not a relationship ,” as Mitch Albom put it. That is why, we have so many rituals associated with death. Minakshi Dewan’s book, The Final Farewell [HarperCollins, 2023], is a well-researched book about those rituals. The book starts with an elaborate description of the Sikh rituals associated with death and cremation, before moving on to Islam, Zoroastrianism, Christianity, and finally Hinduism. After that, it’s all about the various traditions and related details of Hindu final rites. A few chapters are dedicated to the problems of widows in India, gender discrimination in the last rites, and the problem of unclaimed dead bodies. There is a chapter titled ‘Grieving Widows in Hindi Cinema’ too. Death and its rituals form an unusual theme for a book. Frankly, I don’t find the topic stimulating in any way. Obviously, I didn’t buy this book. It came to me as quite many other books do – for reasons of their own. I read the book finally, having shelv

Vultures and Religion

When vultures become extinct, why should a religion face a threat? “When the vultures died off, they stopped eating the bodies of Zoroastrians…” I was amused as I went on reading the book The Final Farewell by Minakshi Dewan. The book is about how the dead are dealt with by people of different religious persuasions. Dead people are quite useless, unless you love euphemism. Or, as they say, dead people tell no tales. In the end, we are all just stories made by people like the religious woman who wrote the epitaph for her atheist husband: “Here lies an atheist, all dressed up and no place to go.” Zoroastrianism is a religion which converts death into a sordid tale by throwing the corpses of its believers to vultures. Death makes one impure, according to that religion. Well, I always thought, and still do, that life makes one impure. I have the support of Lord Buddha on that. Life is dukkha , said the Enlightened. That is, suffering, dissatisfaction and unease. Death is liberation

Cats and Love

No less a psychologist than Freud said that the “time spent with cats is never wasted.” I find time to spend with cats precisely for that reason. They are not easy to love, particularly if they are the country variety which are not quite tameable, and mine are those. What makes my love affair with my cats special is precisely their unwillingness to befriend me. They’d rather be in their own company. “In ancient time, cats were worshipped as gods; they have not forgotten this,” Terry Pratchett says. My cats haven’t, I’m sure. Pratchett knew what he was speaking about because he loved cats which appear frequently in his works. Pratchett’s cats love independence, very unlike dogs. Dogs come when you call them; cats take a message and get back to you as and when they please. I don’t have dogs. But my brother’s dogs visit us – Maggie and me – every evening. We give them something to eat and they love that. They spend time with us after eating. My cats just go away without even a look af