Little world of mud
By Ruskin Bond
I
HAD never thought there was much to be found in
the rain-water pond behind our bungalow in North
India, except for quantities of mud and the
occasional water-buffalo. It was my grandfather
who introduced me to the ponds diverse
life, so beautifully arranged that each occupant
gained some benefit from the well-being of the
others! To the inhabitants of the pond, the pond
was the world; and to the inhabitants of the
world, commented grandfather, the world was just
a muddy pond.
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