Reveries: October 2019

Bonding over Tales

30^th September. 11 a.m. The seminar hall at SNU was brimming with university and school students, professors, teachers and invited guests. Ruskin Bond was about to arrive for a tệte-à-tệte organized jointly by the Techno India Group, Sister Nivedita University and the British Council. The crowd waited eagerly for Mr. Bond while a giant screen played a video about SNU’s exciting academic programmes and campus life. At 11:30 a.m. the eighty-five-year-old author shuffled on to the stage amidst loud applause. After the customary introduction, peppered with titles of Bond’s works, Dr. Debanjan Chakrabarti, director of the British Council, opened the conversation. Unlike other writers, said Chakrabarti, who drew their literary inspiration from external sources, Bond, like a spider, spun his own yarn.

“Well, thank you for comparing me to a spider! I quite like them”, quipped Mr. Bond.

Then he talked about the spider in his room that acted as a barometer of the weather, dutifully clambering down the wall to announce the onset of rain. While the audience tittered, however, Mr. Bond acknowledged the accuracy of the spider metaphor. A story unfolds like a film in his head. And then, it’s only a matter of putting it in beautiful language. Of course, lapping up everything from Dickens to Graham Greene aids in weaving the delightful, fictional webs; he added. Thus began the hour and a half tệte-à-tệte , enlivened by Bond’s witty digressions and quirky anecdotes.

One such anecdote came as a reply to the student anchor, Swagata Dey’s question: “How do you feel about sharing your surname with one of the most famous fictional characters?”. And “pat” came the answer, “Well; I had an uncle called James Bond”. As a dentist, he didn’t enjoy an adventurous life. But Mr. Bond’s epitaph for his “Uncle James” must have enshrined the gentleman in the community’s memory. The epitaph read:

“Stranger, approach this spot with gravity,

For here lies one who filled your cavity.”

The audience had barely recovered from their laughter when they were treated to more of Mr. Bond’s wisecracks.

The British Council had run a short story writing contest for school children. Three lucky winners got to ask questions to Mr. Ruskin Bond. One of them asked if Mr. Bond had ever considered an alternative profession. He admitted having toyed with the idea of becoming a footballer, following it up with another story. He was watching the neighbourhood kids play football when the ball flew towards him. “I gave the ball, what I thought, was a mighty kick”, he said, quite forgetting about the gout in his leg and spent the next three days in agony. Moral of the story: authors have longer shelf lives than athletes. Thereby, Bond made the right choice. The formal decision to be an author was taken on his voyage back to India during his teens – in blatant defiance of his father and the times when soldiering rather than authorship was considered a manly profession.

Then came the inevitable question about overcoming writer’s block. Mr. Bond offered three simple solutions: 1) Don’t get writer’s block

2) Step away from the piece for some time

3) Keep a dustbin ready at hand to dump the torn up pages

Of course, in the age of computers one wouldn’t need a dustbin. Mr. Bond’s next anecdote, in fact addressed the altered significance of a popular author in the new age of media boom. The BBC had invited Bond to talk about his experiences in India. As the nineteen-year-old waited for his producer, he indulged in some small talk with a fellow gentleman waiting next to him. Only after the gentleman departed did Mr. Bond’s producer inform him that so long he had been chatting with Graham Greene – an author who Bond not only admired but who was also at the height of his popularity at the time. But authors have lost that anonymity now. They have become objects of observation rather than quiet observers, Mr. Bond concluded with an amused but slightly rueful smile.

While Bond’s dry wit kept up the light-hearted tone, the session still touched on important literary topics and young writers managed to get quick tips on the writing process. Despite his shuffling gait and grey hairs, this celebrated children’s author proved beyond doubt that he was still one of the youngest souls. It was only fitting, therefore, that the vote of thanks would be delivered by two school children. And for his hundreds of avid readers Mr. Ruskin Bond certainly departed with the silent promise of regaling them for many years to come.