"I'm like a shopkeeper hoarding bags full of grain, only I hoard words. There are still people who buy words, and I hope I can keep bringing a little sunshine and pleasure into their lives to the end of my days."
How is it that despite being such a popular writer in India, I have only managed to read this one book by Ruskin Bond--a writer who resides in my own state, no less? I was surprised to say the least. And to pick up an autobiography as the first book, ah, I'm not sure what my thoughts towards Mr. Bond right now are. He is a man of words, that can be said for sure. The way he charmed me throughout his autobiography (and I am a person who doesn't particularly like autobiographies, or even biographies), and made me wanting to read more, turns out he still has his charm.
Like Bond, I too grew up for a couple of years in the hills of Uttrakhand. Unlike Bond, I spent only a handful of years there. And yet, in those few months, they became a home to me. I want to spend the entirety of my latter life in those hills that I love so much. I won't be lying when I say that this book made me want to go back to those places. And to have an autobiography then, to talk so much about the land that it becomes a character of its own, and to have this land speak out to me through the words that the author chose, well, that's just a sign of very good writing, isn't it?
Even as I write this review, however, I find it very hard to form the words. How does one review something like an autobiography? How does one comment on someone's life this way? Here is a person laying himself bare for me to read through him. How do I make a remark on his work, and in turn, then, his life? And yet, there are 153 GR reviews at the time of writing (26th December, 2020).
I guess one of my favourite parts about this book was how Bond, even as an old man, captured the innocence of his childhood in such a natural manner. Some might say that he is a children's writer so he knows, but that can't only be it, isn't it? It's about how he writes what he writes that makes his work so special, and that I think is one of the best things of the entire book.
I wish, however, that the book covered a little more of his latter life. I wish it talked about his most recent years in Mussoorie, about how he gets by, about what his adopted family is like, about how all of them support each other, and more importantly, about how living in the hills of Mussoorie is like for him. I happened to visit the city back in 2017, the year this book was published. I like to think of what he would be doing at that time when I made the visit. Would he be hanging out with his family or writing on his typewriter or perhaps, if he'd be in the cafe that he is known to frequent. Guess I'll never really find out, isn't it?