Aug 2013 – Carry A Compass

Had the extreme good fortune of meeting Ruskin Bond back in 2006, in Mussoorie. A friend and I had gone to see him at the Cambridge Book Depot on the mall. Bond was making his weekend visit to sign autographs for smitten kids, their proud parents and assorted Delhi socialites with fake American accents going "Oh Mr Bond, I adooooore your works. I read all your stories in my school books." And then they would proceed to get photographed with him en masse. There was even a parent who gave him an Enid Blyton book to sign which he signed, "With Best Wishes, Enid." He invited us over to his house in Landour the next day. So we went. He regaled us with hilarious stories and let us read the draft of a memoir he was writing at the time. I was struck by his warmth, wit and complete ease at hanging out with two people he’d never met before. His room was the cosiest little thing I've seen. Facing the southeast on the road to Lal Tibba in Landour, and painted a soothing burnt yellow to catch the morning sunlight, it consisted of his writing desk- where he wrote by hand- a schoolboy bunk with old trunks underneath and the odd potted plant. The room was full of pictures and cuttings, the perfect space for writing. His living room was full of books- mostly by eminent Victorians. Found out that he's a great fan of Somerset Maugham. Not surprised then, when he called himself an essayist. He also confided that all his ghost stories were made up. His handwriting was that of a boy. He had no airs, and was just the warmest person. He even posed by his desk when I shyly asked him for a photo. What a gent! Happy birthday Mr Bond!

Month: Aug 2013

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