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Book Review: I was the Wind Last Night by Ruskin Bond


Book Review: I was the Wind Last Night by Ruskin Bond






When the sun is hidden behind grey clouds, but the heat has refused to wane and words on your screen don't make sense anymore; is the moment you take out your favourite author's book and rummage through it.
I am not a poetry person, because of my ignorance about rhyme scheme and meters and metaphors; I consider myself a hard to impress reader of poetry. If it doesn't strike me the poem is not worth my patience.

But something about this collection made me happy and peaceful, of course, I am biased towards Mr. Bond, he is one of the greatest literary love of my life. What always surprises me about his writing is clarity of his thoughts and his ease at breaking down most complex of relationships to a Haiku: Sweet-scented jasmine in this fold of cloth
I give to you on this your bridal day,
That you forget me not.



I have been reading him since I was four, I understood him then and at twenty-five I understand him still. He doesn't complicate, he observes and pens, he feels and he writes, that is what is so lacking in today's writing, the clarity of thought and sight.



It's a collection of some amazing new poems and filled with his old gems like The Cherry Tree. Divided into craftily named sections, and touched with the perfect blend of illustration. The book itself is a wholistic experience to hold, the Goudy old style font, the light paper, the strong spine and Young Rusty on the cover. Sometimes you pick up a book because it aesthetically pleases you.



Ruskin Bond's poetry can be summed up as an assorted box of chocolates, they are all sweet; some are bittersweet, some are caramelized sweet, some are sour-cream sweet, but at the core of it lies satisfaction of that toffee you bought for 50 paise once. His words might not be something grand that overwhelms and overpowers ones thought process, but they are sweet nothings that make the overwhelming and overenthusiastic writings bearable.



Oh yes, I am channeling work distress by reading him. If he is not one of the greatest then who is?




And I shared my favourite ones, some of my friends have been poetry assaulted since last Sunday because I have been carrying this book with me everywhere and sharing pictures with them.



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