The Room on the Roof

This book was written by Bond when he was a 17-year-old teenager, and having read some of his other novels which he wrote when he was older, I am pleasantly surprised at how his writing style has remained the same over the years. It’s simple, eloquent, genuine and heartfelt. There's a calmness in his writing, like a gentle flow of the river and a tenderness with which he expresses his thoughts so as to not startle his readers even as the story takes unexpected turns.

On first glance, Rusty is lonely. His longing and loneliness pour out not so much from the words, but from reading in between the lines. He spends all his time either alone in his room or walking in the woods. But on second glance, you realise Rusty is a dreamer. He is someone who can watch the rain pour, the maina sing, the sun rise, his lover’s smile, until the end of time. He is a poet in his heart, and like most poets feels more and talks less. He is curious and impatient and longing for a chance to grow, to love, to have friends.

Much of the story comes from Bond’s memories of his childhood in Dehra, which opened up a myriad of memories in my mind too. His detailed description of the people and sounds in the bazaar took me back to the lanes of Varanasi, where my friend and I spent a wonderful time, enjoying its chaats, its busy roads, its sounds of conchs and bells; his excitement of playing Holi reminded me of those times in my childhood when our gang would paint each other with colours, laughing and having fun. As the protagonist, Rusty, found and lost his friends, I looked back at the time when a new girl in our class or our apartment caused so much joy and excitement, while at the same time, saying goodbye to old friends, brought out tears and promises to stay in touch. Needless to say, while reading this book I was also reliving my childhood, and my treasured experiences. 

Rusty’s friends come from different socio-economic and religious backgrounds, and together they form a mini India. And it is this vibrant, loud, chaotic India that Bond makes you fall in love with. The land of defiant cows on the roads, chatty street vendors, spicy, oily chats, narrow alleys, bustling bazaars and overcrowded trains; the land of long-lasting friendships, brotherly bonds and passionate lovers. 

What touched my heart is Bond's poetic description of mother nature. His love of the hills and its surroundings shine in story. You can hear the soft whispers of the wind, hum along to the chirping of birds in the breeze, and see the gentle rays of the sun traversing through the valley. Bond makes you fall in love with the wilderness. His elaborate descriptions of the bazaar, the room on the roof, the chaat shop, paint a such a broad and colourful picture in front of you, that your imagination can take a rest. 

Bond’s characters have a depth in them. In just a few words, Bond provides each of his characters a back story, which makes them very relatable. It is people you would meet if you were in that place during that time. What makes his writing all the more unique is that even animals and birds have a back story too. And when u come across a line such as this in a story " the maina was a common sight, but this one was unusual.: it was bald, all the feathers had been knocked off its head in a series of fights” you can't help but smile and marvel at the author's ingenuity.

Rusty’s journey from the awkwardness of a new friendship to brotherly love is beautiful and sincere. The story is heart-warming and real. You feel Rusty's love, his despondency, his frustration, and his warmth. You feel these emotions as they were your own. Such is the beauty of this book. And the ending is the hope the monsoon rains bring to our country, something to look forward to.