Going through Ruskin Bond’s short stories takes me back to childhood. Even though I was born in a plain, but after school, Delhi became home. The frequent trips to the hills from the ISBT bus stand. It seems every other house on the hill had a unique story. Or it was a favorite time for the oldies, those when we had no mobile phones or internet.
The bone-chilling winters, bus breakdowns, and overcrowded routes. The trip had it all. The hardship of living in the hills is different from us out here in the plain. The unavailability of basic amenities, followed by healthcare. Even with all the limitations, people out there celebrate and live merrily.
Yesterday I got to know about the place with a cloud burst. All over social media and news channels, it was there. It was so unknown for people who were stuck there, losing their lives and property.