Our Trees
Still Grow in Dehra by Ruskin Bond is a collection of fourteen soulful stories.
The main theme in most of the short stories is homecoming. For example in
Escape from Java, Ruskin narrates the tale of escaping from an island which is
soon to be acquired by Japanese and he and his father being British, need to do
something on urgent basis to escape from that dangerous island. As they start
their journey on a rickety aero-plane, soon it crashes into the sea and after
that how Ruskin and his father struggle for survival fills the rest of the
story. In the end, they somehow reach Dehradun and feel at peace.
Well in some
stories Ruskin has talked about his father and family that used to live in Dehra
probably when India was ruled by the British. In the stories, that are staged
around Dehra, Mussoorie and Fosterganj, you will find that Ruskin has talked
about his cottage, people living in them and the overall day to day life of
hilly people. For instance one touching story about a hilly person is From Small Beginnings, in which Ruskin
has shared the struggle story of Prem – an innocent young man from the nearby
hills. It is worth to see the kind of concern Ruskin holds for Prem’s miserability
while the latter hops from one job to another to support his family.
Other than
homecoming, you will also find stories about the ‘death of nature’ in Dehra and
surrounding areas. Ruskin is always concerned about the nature of the hills
because he always believed and expressed that hills have always been kind to a
struggling writer like him. While reading this collection you will come across
the relationship that Ruskin shares with Dehra. His stories are simply engaging
and full of vivid description. Reading Ruskin Bond means taking a tour of the
Himalayan foothills with his simple ordinary hopeful characters.
Well, the
overall essence of the book is well presented by Ruskin Bond through this
marvelous poem.
Poem: Return to Dehra
So this is
old Dehra of mangoes and lemons,
Where I grew
beside the jack fruit tree
planted by my
father on the sunny side
of the house
since sold to Major-General Mehra.
The town’s
grown hard, none knows me now or knew my Mother’s laughter.
Most men come
home as strangers.
And yet, the
trees my father planted here,
These
trees-old family trees- are growing still in Dehra.
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