The Great Train Journey

by Ruskin Bond

I wish I were going to Mussoorie. I love the hills. Especially in October.’ ‘Yes, this is the best time,’ I said, calling on my memories. ‘The hills are covered with wild dahlias, the sun is delicious, and at night you can sit in front of a log fire and drink a little brandy. Most of the tourists have gone and the roads are quiet and almost deserted. Yes, October is the best time.’

‘Did you have the dog for long?’ I asked Heera. He looked up with surprise, for he had been unaware of my presence. ‘Six years, sahib,’ he said. ‘He was not a clever dog, but he was very friendly. He followed me home one day, when I was coming back from the bazaar. I kept telling him to go away, but he wouldn’t. It was a long walk and so I began talking to him. I liked talking to him, and I have always talked with him, and we have understood each other. That first night, when I came home, I shut the gate between us. But he stood on the other side, looking at me with trusting eyes. Why did he have to look at me like that?’ ‘So, you kept him?’ ‘Yes, I could never forget the way he looked at me. I shall feel lonely now, because he was my only companion. My wife and son died long ago. It seems I am to stay here forever, until everyone has gone, until there are only ghosts in Shamli. Already the ghosts are here…’

I bent a branch, but the wood was young and green, and I had to twist it several times before it snapped. ‘I hope nobody minds,’ I said, as I dropped the flowering branch to Kiran. ‘It’s nobody’s tree,’ she said. ‘Sure?’ She nodded vigorously. ‘Sure, don’t worry.’ I was working for her and she felt immensely capable of protecting me. Talking and being with Kiran, I felt a nostalgic longing for the childhood: emotions that had been beautiful because they were never completely understood.