mid-day Opinion: Magic from the mundane

Ruskin Bond beside his favourite seat by the overflowing bookshelf

I was unable to hear the voice on the other side of the call on my mobile phone. So, I leaned a bit out of my window, hoping it would improve clarity. And in a flash, the phone fell from my hand!" chuckled Ruskin Bond, while reminiscing about his misadventures with technology. Nearly a decade ago, I had the opportunity to interview the iconic writer about his then-recent book release in his Himalayan-ensconced Landour home. That was the agenda. What transpired, thankfully, was an organic chat about all things books, and the art of being inspired by the mundane, simple things around us.

It was a chilly December. By late afternoon, when I had made my way to "Ruskin Bond ka ghar," as the locals refer to it, welcoming sunlight had bathed the entire valley that overlooked his home. ‘Inspiration is everywhere,' I made a mental note after navigating a scenic albeit vertigo-inducing winding road.

The view of the Himalayas from the window of Ruskin Bond's writing room. PICS/FIONA FERNANDEZ

To my surprise, the Jnanpith Award-winner answered the door. "Hello, this is Mr Bond. You must be here for the interview?" he asked, and led us to the sitting area of his home. Inside, the space breathed simplicity. His countless citations and awards that elbowed each other were outnumbered only by the staggering number of books in his functional bookshelf.

After the chat about his new book, talk veered to his craft. I was baffled by his penchant for picking up on simple occurrences and observations, and practical routines, given his stature, "I keep a journal where I make notes of new things and elements that catch my attention; I try to weave those into my stories."

As I scanned the room for in-house inspiration, the wooden miniatures of cats caught the eye. "Are you a cat person?" I asked, hesitatingly. "Oh yes! Haven't you met them in my books?" he replied, cheekily.
Next, I got the ‘tour' of his writing nook that overlooked the lower Himalayas. It was picture-perfect. This could be Rusty's [one of his most popular characters] home, I imagined, trying to manifest some of the storylines that took shape in that room.

The simplicity was in his writing space too. Books and notepads were strewn everywhere. The vine of a plant had wormed its way all across the wall. "Someday, it will strangle me in my sleep!" he joked, revealing his [dark] humour. His sleeping bed was right beside his desk. "Dreams help. And if it's a vivid one, I note it down immediately. I try to write on most days. It's important to work regularly." Then, he dropped another gem, "I like reading the Concise Oxford Dictionary, just for fun. It improves your vocabulary."

An hour flew past. From observing passengers at Victoria Terminus' [today's CSMT] waiting room, to blurring lines between fact and fiction in his hill station ghost stories, we picked his writer's brain. It was the routine stuff, and the slice-of-life anecdotes that inspired him the most.

Just then, a Blue Whistling Thrush traipsed past his window, as if to say ‘hello'. Bond smiled, "This is what I mean… I'm tempted to weave a story about this little fella's Himalayan adventures." I remembered the funny phone episode. It's most likely to have made it to one of his gazillion books.

Outside, the sun did a dramatic fade-out, signalling that it was time to leave. Clearly, Bond's mantra spun magic in his sunshine-y stories, and his life as well.

Given that he continues to delight us with his stories at 92, perhaps there's a lesson in there for us, city folk, who seek inspiration and affirmation in higher, distant goals. And the bigger stuff.

mid-day's Features Editor Fiona Fernandez relishes the city's sights, sounds, smells and stones...wherever the ink and the inclination takes her. She tweets @bombayana
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The views expressed in this column are the individual's and don't represent those of the paper.