As soon as I meet Ruskin Bond at the Ruskin Bond Literature Festival, presented by StoneX, I tell him what I have long admired about his writing: the silent spaces he leaves in his stories.
“People sometimes ask me if I go in for meditation,” he says instantly. “And I say no, I go in for contemplation.”
The beloved writer, who turned 92 on May 19, appears physically frail but remains warm and witty, chuckling often as he speaks. His latest book is All-Time Favourite Friendship Stories, published by Puffin.
“In my case, I had a lonely childhood. It took me time to make friends. But when I did, they became very solid friendships,” he says.
Having written for readers across generations, Bond says children’s publishing today offers far more opportunities than it did when he began. His earlier books were published not in India, but London.
But even amid shrinking attention spans, digital distractions and the familiar commentary that nobody is reading anymore, what keeps a writer going?
“The fact that someone, somewhere is still reading. Otherwise, how are my books selling?”
In an interview with THE WEEK, Bond speaks about friendship, solitude, writing routines and why reading, in his view, has always been a minority pastime.
Edited excerpts:
Q) Your latest book is ‘All-Time Favourite Friendship Stories’. Friendship is such an important part of growing up anyway. What made you devote an entire collection to it?
A) In previous years, we’ve done all-time favourite selections on nature and adventure. So the editors and I were wondering, what could be a good theme. I suggested friendship because it’s an important part of growing up.
In my case, I had a lonely childhood. It took me time to make friends. But when I did, they became very solid friendships.
The idea of friendship being important has always been with me. Perhaps because I never married, my attachments have often been with people who were not really blood relatives.
Q) Why do you say you had a lonely childhood?
A) Well, I was very close to my father, but he died when I was nine.
I then had to adjust to life with a stepfather and my mother. It was a very different kind of life. So I was partly in a stage of rebellion, and very much alone as far as home was concerned. I would get out and be on my own.
And then gradually, when I did make friends, they became very firm and lasting friendships.
Q) Did you make friends easily, or did it take time for you to open up?
A) In the beginning, it took time. But once I was 15 or 16, I responded much more easily to friendships.
I never went out of my way to make friends. But if somebody was friendly or nice to me, or wanted to be friends, I would respond positively. I would never reject a friendship.
Q) Were there friends who stayed with you throughout your life?
Well, I have had friends. I write about Somi in The Room on the Roof. We had been friends since I was 16. He must be a year or two younger than me.
Then I went off to England, and by the time I returned he had gone to the United States and settled there. I didn’t see him for 70 years or so.
He came and met me about five years ago, after a gap of nearly 70 years. And it was still the same. He had a grey beard and I had grey or white hair. But his nature was the same.
Our nature doesn’t change. We grow up, do different things, get married, have children, our lives change, we do different jobs; but our basic nature doesn’t change.
Q) You also write about friendship with animals.
A) My grandfather had several animals, whom I’ve written about in my stories. I too have had animals occasionally.
At the moment the family has a cat, Mixie, who has three legs. She is a very beautiful and loving cat.
She protected me not so long ago. Because I can’t shave myself, they got a barber to shave me. As soon as she saw him approach the bed with an open razor, she attacked him. She clawed him, and he ran away.
Q) You seem a remarkably productive writer. Did you have a writing routine? Did you write every day?
A) At the moment, because I can’t see ... these glasses are just for appearance, writing is different now. I dictate a bit.
But normally, back in Mussoorie, over the years I found that the morning was the best time to write. We have a little sunny balcony where I’ve grown geraniums, and I like sitting there. It’s bright and sunny.
So I would sit there for an hour before breakfast and write something ... anything. It could just be random thoughts. And if it went well, I would continue afterwards. But usually it would be done by then. So the rest of the day would be free.
Q) Children’s publishing today seems very different from when you began writing. There are many more books, and they often tackle subjects that weren’t commonly written about earlier, such as disability, appearance, sexuality. How do you see children’s publishing right now?
A) Well, it has grown a lot. It does concentrate a bit on the sensational—horror stories, science fiction and fantasy.
But if I go back to the 1950s and 60s, we did not have children’s publishers. There were hardly any. They used to pay Rs 1,000 for a book. That was all. A flat fee of Rs 1,000, and no royalties.
My early children’s books—The Blue Umbrella and others—were published abroad, in London.
It was only later, perhaps in the 1980s and 90s, when publishers like Penguin and HarperCollins came in, and our own publishers discovered there was an audience for children’s books.
In fact, I think now my children’s books sell better than my books for adult readers.
Q) There’s a larger commentary that nobody’s reading anymore. So what keeps a writer going?
A) The fact that someone, somewhere is still reading. Otherwise, how are my books selling? Or maybe they’re just buying them and keeping them in cupboards.
But let me tell you: when I was a boy and I went to school, we had a library period. We were a class of 35. Every week we had to borrow a book. There were just two of us in that class who actually read books. The others would just return them.
Kids were not into books even then. It was always a minority pastime. They had comics. They had games. They listened to the radio. Music was popular.
But very few actually read.