Meeting Ruskin Bond (7th September, 2006)


Car fumes mixed with the heady scent of the pine forest

The house was nothing extra ordinary

There were no sprawling estates

Or guarded by jealous liveried man servants

There was a column of steep, moss colored stairs

Fighting hearts to escape

And memories of books words and whatnot

Against my fingertips

Throbbing breathing memories

So much love for a great man

The stairs are over

The heart has flown

And the footsteps pass a tiny green swing

A young Garhwal boy smiles his welcome

And waves me in

No Introductions

I see him in his red cane chair

Under the brass lamps

Beneath the lace curtains

And the books

They are a million

A billion

A trillion

His face lights up as I draw nearer

An ancient frameless face

A careless wave of the hand

As he sips from his coffee cup

I look at history

As I ask – Mr Bond?

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