write a book review on ' Bus stop, Pipalnagar' by ruskin bond!
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This is the land I should write about. Pipalnagar should be forgotten: I should turn aside from it to sing instead of the splendours of exotic places.
But only yesterdays are truly splendid . . . and there are other singers, sweeter than I, to sing of tomorrow. I can only write of today, of Pipalnagar, where I have lived and loved.
”The pure, the bright, the beautiful, That stirred our hearts in youth, The impulse to a wordless prayer, The dreams of love and truth; The longings after something lost, The spirit’s yearning cry, The striving after better hopes … These things can never die.”
But the trees seemed to know me. They whispered among themselves and beckoned me nearer. And looking around, I noticed the other small trees and wild plants and grasses had sprung up under the protection of the trees we had placed there.
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