Ruskin Bond - A Little Book of Serenity

Ruskin Bond is the author of numerous novellas, short-story collections and non-fiction books, many of them classics. Among them are The Room on the Roof, A Flight of Pigeons, The Night Train at Deoli, Time Stops at Shamli, Landour Days, Rain in the Mountains, A Book of Simple Living, A Little Book of Happiness and Friends in Wild Places. He received the Sahitya Akademi Award in 1993, the Padma Shri in 1999 and the Padma Bhushan in 2014. He lives in Landour, Mussoorie, with his extended family. Some years ago, on a busy road outside a railway station, I saw a yogi lying on a bed of nails. He was taking a quiet nap, and when he got up he looked very rested, very serene.

I suppose thats one form of serenitylooking comfortable where others would find discomfort. My Uncle Ken, the laziest man in the world, proclaimed that he could do the same thing. He got a thick mattress, placed it over the bed of nails, spread himself out upon it, and gave us a self-satisfied grin. I suppose that too was a serenity of a sort. Or was it serendipity? In this workaday, competitive, computerized world I find it very hard to find people who are truly serene. As people rush around in their cars, or on their bikes, they are usually snarling at each other, anxious to overtake, to get ahead.

Nervous tension oozes from their pores. Serenity is just a word they have heard of somewhere. Or sit in front of your TV set any evening. Tune in to the news channels. And what will you find? Angry citizens, agitated politicians, excitable TV anchors, sermonizing holy men, opinionated celebrities Serenity is rarely to be seen. Perhaps you will find it only in the cradle.

I remember an African mother crooning a lullaby to her sleeping infant: How can there be a baby with no crying? How can there be a story with no ending? And she answers her own questions: A baby when its sleeping has no crying. A story of I love you has no ending A sleeping baby, a tender lullaby, and peace spread all over that loving face. It happens sometimes. I have seen serenity in the faces of old people, those who have come to terms with life and the knowledge that life on earth is not permanent. An old lady contemplating a rose, an old man dreaming of other days, or gazing at the distant mountains and wondering at their serenity; for the serenity of nature is the serenity of perfection. Sometimes I think that serenity can only be acquired through humility.

Receive failure and defeat with a smile. You will make more friends that way. And when you run your race again, that smile, your serene and loving nature, will take you further than all the fast cars in the world. The old pond, A frog jumps in: Plop! Matsuo Basho (tr. Alan Watts) Lord, give me a quiet mind, That I might listen; A gentle tone of voice, That I might comfort others; A sound and healthy body, That I might share In the joy of walking And leaping and running; And a good sense of direction So I might know just where Im going! all morning clouds climb up the valley; my tea-kettle whistles. Guru T.

Ladakhi With no bird singing The mountain is yet more still. Zen saying If you want inner peace find it in solitude, not speed, and if you would find yourself, look to the land from which you came and to which you go. Stewart Udall Theres more to life than increasing its speed. Mahatma Gandhi Old friends pass away, new friends appear. It is just like the days. An old day passes, a new day arrives.

The important thing is to make it meaningful: a meaningful friendor a meaningful day. Dalai Lama An outbreak of spring: The sun comes up and the walls of the houses are suddenly patched with splashes of colour; and just as suddenly the trees seem to have burst into flower; for in the forest are armies of rhododendrons, poinsettias dance by the river; the snows in the mountains have melted and the streams are rushing torrents; the young grass holds both dew and sun, and makes an emerald of every dewdrop. I have books, work, a garden; I have the children and the dogs and, when I feel I am getting infantile, I have the books again. Rumer Godden Love your art, poor as it may be, which thou hast learned, and be content with it; and pass through the rest of life making thyself neither the tyrant nor the slave of any man. Marcus Aurelius