by Ruskin Bond
I did not feel so philosophical, and wondered if Bhim had conspired to keep me in the rest house for another night. He couldn’t be having many guests in that remote place.
At sunset he turned up with a glass, a bottle of soda, and a half-bottle of rum.
‘Good Army rum,’ he said. ‘No headache.’
I gave in. Drank the rum, consumed the kababs and bean curry, and slept peacefully in the second bedroom. Bhim had made the bed in my presence, convincing me that there were no scorpions or centipedes among the bed sheets. We turned the mattress over. All clear.
I woke at seven, to be greeted by Bhim with a cup of tea.
Then I went to the bathroom. Settled down on the toilet-seat. At peace with the world—as I usually am, when the bowels are moving freely.
And then I looked down and froze.
A large, glistening snake had wound itself around the base of the toilet-seat. It had a frog in its jaws, and only the back legs of the frog were visible. I have no idea what kind of snake it was—I did not stop to study it, but leapt from the seat and dashed into the bedroom, shouting for the room-boy.
Bhim appeared almost instandy.
‘What is wrong, sir? Breakfast almost ready.’
‘A snake!’ I shouted. ‘There’s a huge snake in the bathroom!’
‘Not to worry, sir. Only a dhaman, not poisonous. He comes through the drainpipe. Kills the rats. Very helpful.’
‘Well, he has a frog this time,’ I said. ‘And I’m leaving right away. Just as soon as I can find my trousers.’
He went into the bathroom and returned with my trousers.
‘Snake gone,’ he said. ‘Nothing to fear.’
I felt better after putting on my trousers. It’s amazing what a pair of trousers can do for one’s confidence.
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘And now you can get me a taxi.’
‘But the train doesn’t leave till evening.’
‘I’m taking a bus,’ I said. ‘A bus leaves for Jaipur every hour.’
Disappointed, Bhim cycled off to arrange for some transport. I waited on the veranda, taking a last look at the pond. It was certainly safer outside than in the house.
The buffaloes were back. So were there young minders. So was the cormorant. And the tortoise was there too. It was all very peaceful—just another tranquil day in the desert.
As Time Goes By
* This diary formed the nucleus of my first novel, The Room on the Roof.
From Small Beginnings
* On a warrant from Bombay, charging me with writing an allegedly obcene short story!
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First published by Penguin Books India 1991
Copyright © Ruskin Bond 1991
‘Binya Passes By’, ‘From Small Beginnings’ and ‘Death of the Trees’ are appearing here for the first time.
A Flight of Pigeons was made into the Hindi film Junoon (directed by Shyam Benegal and produced by Shashi Kapoor).
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover photograph by Amit Khullar
Cover design by Bena Sareen
All rights reserved
ISBN: 978-01-4016-902-7
This digital edition published in 2013.
e-ISBN: 978-81-8475-443-8
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