As says my Tooltip for Books in Life tag on the wordpress blog my book reviews are not reviews but the feelings ,thoughts and memories the book puts in my head and heart and occasionally the soul.

After quite some days I started off reading Rusking Bond's Landour days this weekend. He is one author I love (and perhaps envy )for the sheer simplicity of life he has had is able to relate in his books.Except for his book "Strangers in the Night" which is absolutely a male fantasy kind of book different from any other book of his and I did not enjoy rest of his book bring into life an idyllic pleasure that I never have had.

His love for flowers and his description of them makes me so enjoy them . So when I started of on the introduction of this book "Landour days" – a writers journal I found so many of the things echoed and so many memories brought back .

The first line itself reminds me why I started writing this blog anonymously

""The habit of keeping a diary has led me into trouble more than once,""….."People love dipping into other people's diaries and….resulted in … ill-feeling."

It happened to me with someone of my own with just a few lines and no one has the time to read the whole ….just a few words that "I hate her" (Never mind the fact that she is the only one in this world I ever have trouble deciding to hate or love at any given time ) is all that was remembered and it probably caused a crack that though time has hidden has caused irreparable damage.

Then the story of his headmasters wife reminded me of the day in school when I was given some real insult as a child saying I was trying to forge.Funny part was I never understood what I was doing was wrong. On my lazy afternoons I just copied my teacher's signature a few times in my notebook and when it went again to her with the homework I was caught for An attempt to forge in fourth or fifth class I think. I recalled it as I read it.

His introduction itself is what I think I would like to write for my blog….

"I am a compulsive diarist…..In this way I have preserved much that otherwise would have been forgotten. Naturally there were evnts trivial in retrospect which are better forgotten but it is salutary for me to flip through the pages of old diaries…..and see how stupid I was at times or how I coped with difficult situations…..…Not everything that happens goes into the diary. The privacy of friends has to be respected. My own privacy has to be preserved, to a certain extent.But I am a subjective writer and much that I have written …has been from personal experience." I guess that's why being anonymous is best for this journal.

His lines about compulsive walkers –" who will walk all day here and there everywhere not in order to get somewhere, but to escape"……….Those of us who must work for a living and would love to be able to walk…It's a rat race for most people whether they like it or not." is another some surely can relate to.

In his advice to budding writers is a point 3 which convinces me of my limitations whenever I think of my writing in general

"Are you interested in anyone else other than yourself? Writing about oneself has its limitations"

The book and its simple funny incidents which are so believable and the idyllic morning and mountains reminding you you of times when you could dream of it at least .Many love the sea , but I like the mountains a bit more , theres something about them which fascinates me – hillsides covered with flowers may be that's what is my imagination – especially cosmos. As I walk to office I see the orange variety oif them planted in the traffic circle and they are so lovely standing up to the sun. I like the white and pink more but in the dusty crossroads I guess orange is suitable.Today one cant afford houses in hill stations . One cant afford them in these concrete jungles firstly.

Throughout the book he uses quotes like" It isn't life that matters , but the courage you bring to it" which put things into perspective which is something I love to do in my blog , never realized that till now.

I wouldn't write what he wrote of flowers they mean a lot more and so to me but ah the way he puts it.

"To me flowers are the most sensual of living things, or perhaps its just that they appeal to the sensuality in my own nature"

For me flowers are a hope , are a sign of living and blooming for the day and yes they appeal to me in ways nothing else does esp when they are on plants itself.

During my trip to Mumbai I traveled so much but what I remember is the flowers there , they are so cheap compared to here and so fresh and available in bounties. As I got down from Dadar station I saw a little girl with bouquets of red and yellow roses some 10 to 15 bouquets I guess as though they were so unreal all in her arms and that's all I remember. And then the African daisies you see green centered white ones that they pluck and sell at temples.I was so reluctant to give it to the pandit who would just crush and throw them at Siddhi Vinayak.Herein I see houses though where the pink bougainvillea wraps itself all over neem trees in such a pretty manner that I just stand for moments when I walk that path occasionally. I used to love the long walls for kilometers covered by bougainvillea a few years ago on roads which now have glass buildings.

"My faults and limitations are many but I've always accepted that I'm a most imperfect specimen of humanity, which means I've always been on friendly terms with myself"The first part of the above line I can write today but I hope I mean the second part too some day i.e I accept my faults and limitations easily but I can't be friendly with myself for them and none around me let me be.

It was nice to read something so simply joyful its always the reason I love his books, including the humor which does not get cynical and yet leaves you amused The part where he decides silence is the most sweetest sound is what I feel at time and cant bear to listen any music at all.

His stories set in simple people of Mussorie, Dehra and such hills remind me of what one can never have…its not just because of the financial factor but also because of the time that passed by.

The lines he writes for Dehradoon are what I guess one can write for anything or anyone one loves.

"Dear old Dehra : I may stop loving you, but I wont' stop loving the days I loved you"

P.S: The weekend I guess has been idyllic for me this time…Went for an interview which felt too easy except that the interviewer seemed more inrested in my education details or rather pulling out information from there. His wry look when he asked "how come your % dropped from 80% in school to 65% in Engineering- Too much studying eh was quite memorable" ….though I will forgive him rather for putting it humorously rather than the other chap at the Database company who found that some one from my college was supposed to be very active and god knows what.

Sunday was all watching Sachin and as that banner by some one in the match said thanks for all the memories. Not to watch him in live action is a regret I will live with.Then I had pre decided Monday was not right for office as I woke up idyllically at 9:30 am as I slept finishing this idyllic book late at 1:30 am and now write of it.