The Eyes Have It (also known as The Girl on the Train & The Eyes Are Not Here) is a short story by Ruskin Bond that was originally published in Contemporary Indian English Stories. The narrator of this story, a blind man whose eyes were sensitive only to light and darkness, was going to Dehradun by train when he met a girl and had a chit-chat with her. It was only after she left and another passenger came into the compartment that the narrator realizes the girl was blind.
Up to Rohana, the narrator was alone in the compartment. A girl boarded towards the compartment . Her parents bid her goodbye at the station and were anxious about her well-being and advised her a lot regarding where to keep her belongings, not to lean out of the windows and to avoid talking to strangers.
Once the train left the station, the narrator started a conversation asking if she too was going to Dehra. The voice startled her as she thought her to be alone in the compartment. The girl told him that she was going to Saharanpur where her aunt would come to take her home. She also envied the narrator as the hills of Mussoorie, where he was headed to, presented a lovely sight in October (the present month).
After some more chit-chats, the narrator told her, quite daringly (as he was blind and couldn't have known her face for sure) that she had an interesting face. She was happy at this and replied that it was indeed a welcome deviation from the often repeated phrase: "You have a pretty face".
Soon it was time for the girl to bid goodbye as the train arrived at her destination. After her departure, a man entered the compartment and apologized, as a matter of fact, for not being as attractive a traveling companion as his predecessor. When the narrator asked him if the girl had her hair long or short, he replied with interest that he had noticed only her eyes, which were beautiful but of no use, as she was completely blind.
OUR TREES STILL GROW IN DEHRA
Though It is a collection of short stories by Ruskin Bond each story in very closely interlinked with the other. In this book Ruskin traces his life from childhood through teenage to adulthood. Starting from Java he journeys to India where he first lands up in Bombay then to Delhi before finally reaching the Himalayas and here begins a nostalgic tale of writer’s stay in the Himalayas. He takes us around the unexplored and the mythical Himalayas where human life rejoices in an idyllic paradise. The trees, birds, mountains, streams and the sombre people add to the mysticism of mountain life.
It is all the way a journey down the memory lane for the author through which he introduces us to a number of people who had influenced his life. He introduces his grandfather, grandmother, their menagerie and their never ending list of wild civilised guests. Here Bond describes each with an unmatched subtlety which is unique to his style.
Then he takes us to the undiscovered places of Himalayas where he, in his teens, revelled with his limited number of friends. And, then, there is Binya, who comes in his life only for a short duration but fills his life with much needed colour of love. There is tonga driver, who offers him a ride just for a cup of tea. A true picturesque representation of India and much specifically of the mountains and its dwellers who have distinguished themselves as true human beings.
There is also a pang in writer’s notes due to changing lifestyle in the mountains. A large scale cutting of trees upsets him. He is bothered by the fact that the changes which man is effecting now would in turn reflect upon him and lead to his own destruction, and his worst fear that crow and jackals will rule in the end would come true.He is perturbed that the home of hundreads of birds and animals will vanish with trees and there would remain only the artificial and lifeless landmarks created by man. He is no mood to compromise with those who are felling the trees for constructing the roads. He even compares the felling of trees by the PWD (that is, Public Works Department) to the death of his young brother. He says,”……both victims of road. The tree killed by PWD; my brother by a truck.
But in the end he finds one solace: Men come and go; the mountains remain