Ruskin Bond: The grand old man of Indian letters
The room on the roof is my sanctuary, my escape from the world. — The Room on the Roof, Ruskin Bond It’s been almost 70 years since The Room on the Roof, a coming-of-age story about Rusty, a lonely young Anglo-Indian boy, was first published. In those seven decades, its author Ruskin Bond has himself become a sort of sanctuary for generations of Indians, their place of escape from the world. It’s a place of whistling night trains, whispering deodar trees and wistful ghosts.
I grew up far away from all that in crowded noisy Kolkata. Yet if I had to imagine childhood as a place, it would feel a lot like a Ruskin Bond short story. Bond just turned 90 on 19 May with a grand party in Mussoorie.
He has lived in nearby Landour for over half a century. “The amazing part of Mr Bond’s birthdays is that the whole town celebrates it," marvels Malavika Banerjee, the director of the Kolkata Literary Meet, who attended the celebrations. “Schoolchildren flock for a glimpse, the premier hotel hosts a party, and there is such a wave of good wishes that surround him." In the photographs from that night, the cherubic Bond in a red sweater looks slightly bemused by all the attention.
“He did perk up when he heard the band play Autumn Leaves," says Banerjee. Banerjee has invited Bond to six consecutive literature festivals. And each appearance has been a thumping success.
Banerjee, also a director of Gameplan, a sports management company, says, “We are used to a lot of adulation and crazy fans around cricketers. Mr Bond elicits the same response from all age groups. It’s a challenge sometimes to manage the crowds." I remember walking into the literary festival and seeing snaking queues of children (and quite a few adults) waiting patiently
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