The Blue Umbrella

by Ruskin Bond

The umbrella was like a flower, a great blue flower that had sprung up on the dry brown hillside.

The Pujari, who looked after the temple, announced that he would buy a multicoloured umbrella the next time he was in the town. A few days later he returned, looking annoyed and grumbling that they weren’t available except in Delhi. Most people consoled themselves by saying that Binya’s pretty umbrella wouldn’t keep out the rain, if it rained heavily; that it would shrivel in the sun, if the sun was fierce; that it would collapse in a wind, if the wind was strong; that it would attract lightning, if lightning fell near it; and that it would prove unlucky, if there was any ill-luck going about. Secretly, everyone admired it.

She walked home through the darkening glade, singing of the stars; and the trees stood still and listened to her, and the mountains were glad.