Who is the writer of this book "The Kite maker"??
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ruskin bond is the writer of this book
waniwanii43:
James Ruskin Bond the cousin of famous Ruskin bond
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Hi there!
RUSKIN BOND is the Writer of "The Kite Maker"
In it, an old man in rural India muses on how the world has changed while his grandson flies a kite nearby.
Bond uses nature imagery as symbols, with an old, gnarled banyan tree standing in for the old man, while a young, spry mimosa tree represents the vitality of the grandson.
Ali, a young Indian boy, plays with a kite as his grandfather, Mehmood, rests under an old banyan tree, the only tree on the street.
Ali’s kite gets caught in the tree’s branches, and he asks his grandfather for help. Mehmood is too old to retrieve the kite or teach Ali to fly it properly, but he makes him another kite.
Ali promises not to loose this one, and goes off to fly it.
Mehmood sits under the banyan tree and thinks of his former profession as a master kitemaker.
In the old days, he remembers, grown men happily flew kites. There was more open space then, and less hustle and bustle in the town. Men would compete against each other and bet on the outcome.
Even the nawab, the local village chieftain, would come to watch. When he was a kitemaker, Mehmood had been known and revered for his skill. Once, he had built a spectacular kite for the nawab, one that looked like a dragon in the air.
That kite was too difficult for even Mehmood to fly, so he made the nawab a prettier, easier one.
Mehmood muses on just how much has changed since then. The nawabis dead, and his descendants are ordinary people, just like Mehmood. He no longer has a patron, and none of his neighbors know him.
The pace of life has changed, and those living in his village are busy and harried. One of Mehmood’s sons works in a local garage, and the other is stuck in Pakistan.
When India and Pakistan were made into two separate countries, he was on the wrong side of the border and cannot come home.
Mehmood is grateful that his other son lives nearby, as it gives him an opportunity to see Ali, his only grandson, grow up. He enjoys watching Ali play. Ali, he thinks, is like the mimosa sapling at the edge of the courtyard.
They are young, and will grow up tall and strong. Mehmood is like the banyan tree he sits beneath. Both are old, stooped, their bones and branches twisted.
Mehmood feels himself growing tired and wonders if he’ll dream of the kite he wants to make, one that looks like a giant white bird.
He should have something to leave Ali, he thinks. He hears Ali calling to him, but the boy’s voice sounds faint and far away. Ali returns to the banyan tree and sees his grandfather, whose eyes are closed.
There is a little white butterfly resting on his beard. Ali tries to wake Mehmood, but can’t. Frightened, he runs away, calling for help from his mother.
The butterfly flies from Mehmood’s beard to the mimosa tree, and Ali’s kite suddenly takes flight and disappears into the sky.
Cheers!
RUSKIN BOND is the Writer of "The Kite Maker"
In it, an old man in rural India muses on how the world has changed while his grandson flies a kite nearby.
Bond uses nature imagery as symbols, with an old, gnarled banyan tree standing in for the old man, while a young, spry mimosa tree represents the vitality of the grandson.
Ali, a young Indian boy, plays with a kite as his grandfather, Mehmood, rests under an old banyan tree, the only tree on the street.
Ali’s kite gets caught in the tree’s branches, and he asks his grandfather for help. Mehmood is too old to retrieve the kite or teach Ali to fly it properly, but he makes him another kite.
Ali promises not to loose this one, and goes off to fly it.
Mehmood sits under the banyan tree and thinks of his former profession as a master kitemaker.
In the old days, he remembers, grown men happily flew kites. There was more open space then, and less hustle and bustle in the town. Men would compete against each other and bet on the outcome.
Even the nawab, the local village chieftain, would come to watch. When he was a kitemaker, Mehmood had been known and revered for his skill. Once, he had built a spectacular kite for the nawab, one that looked like a dragon in the air.
That kite was too difficult for even Mehmood to fly, so he made the nawab a prettier, easier one.
Mehmood muses on just how much has changed since then. The nawabis dead, and his descendants are ordinary people, just like Mehmood. He no longer has a patron, and none of his neighbors know him.
The pace of life has changed, and those living in his village are busy and harried. One of Mehmood’s sons works in a local garage, and the other is stuck in Pakistan.
When India and Pakistan were made into two separate countries, he was on the wrong side of the border and cannot come home.
Mehmood is grateful that his other son lives nearby, as it gives him an opportunity to see Ali, his only grandson, grow up. He enjoys watching Ali play. Ali, he thinks, is like the mimosa sapling at the edge of the courtyard.
They are young, and will grow up tall and strong. Mehmood is like the banyan tree he sits beneath. Both are old, stooped, their bones and branches twisted.
Mehmood feels himself growing tired and wonders if he’ll dream of the kite he wants to make, one that looks like a giant white bird.
He should have something to leave Ali, he thinks. He hears Ali calling to him, but the boy’s voice sounds faint and far away. Ali returns to the banyan tree and sees his grandfather, whose eyes are closed.
There is a little white butterfly resting on his beard. Ali tries to wake Mehmood, but can’t. Frightened, he runs away, calling for help from his mother.
The butterfly flies from Mehmood’s beard to the mimosa tree, and Ali’s kite suddenly takes flight and disappears into the sky.
Cheers!
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