A Story of a Tree

" He is gone," my childhood friend said. We stayed silent for a moment and a small drop of sadness landed in our hearts. We were talking about pimpal (sacred fig) tree, which used to be present in all thick and thins in the wide lane where we spent all our beautiful childhood days. What a tree that was! It was always at the background of the place which we called home, where we played, where we sat on steps and shared our secrets. After monsoon, it used to be full of leaves, blessing us with its presence. It appeared like a guardian, looking after us. I heard that it was a very ancient guy. Though, at the same time it looked so new when he got his new leaves at the dawn of a Spring. It appeared playful when its branches swayed with a gentle breeze. It appeared wild and at times crazy when the wind blew harsher during the rainy, stormy nights. It had many stories to tell. Me and my friend listened to all of it together. Some kids also thought that there was a ghost residing in that tree. Ghost or not, the tree sure had a huge personality, a pretty complex one. It was kind and matured but also was very playful. That huge guy was gone. We were silent again and it rekindled my childhood spirit where I had  an ability to listen to the stories told by the tree.

 

At my first home, our house was surrounded by many palm trees of our own. I was much younger then. The trees were so close to our house that, few of its fronds used to reach our terrace. Going on the terrace alone and reading there was my most favorite activity. The palm tree which had its fronds in our terrace was my best buddy for that time. It read with me. It played with me. It showed me the new nests of crows during Spring. It also heard my stories and it had short and sweet stories to tell back. I guess I was younger then so I was more sensible and that is the reason I did not only heard its stories but I even could have a conversation with it . It never let me feel lonely.

 

Childhood was really the magical time. I could also listen to the stories of the trees surrounding our country side home. I visited there few times for summer vacations. The tall palms which resided in the reddish looking ground had many mysterious tales to tell. They were not as friendly as my palm back home but I felt attracted towards them for no apparent reason.

 

As I grew older, I guess I wanted to explore different relationships. New friendships, new bonding. Even after reading and learning that "make new friends but never forget your old ones", I some how forgot all about my tree friends. All that relationship drama, false ambitions, meaningless routines became so noisy that I lost my magical power of listening to the stories of lovely trees. Instead of spending some time with my old buddies, I started spending my energy on never ending drama.  Now I am a hard working jerk who is pretending to be busy in meaningless routines. I have forgotten the way to feel one with the nature. I give bottomless talks about how trees are important for our environment and how it is important to promote planting trees over the tea with like minded friends. I have a small garden in my patio, where I just spend time to water plants and groom them just to make sure that they stay alive and give flowers to get some false satisfaction. I do not listen to them. I can not talk to them.

 

Life gives you second chance always to re-connect to yourself again. Having children is a great opportunity to live your childhood again and to relive many moments which you wish you lived to fullest when the time was there. My new apartment home also gave me that chance to re-connect to my old friends again along with my kids. There is a white gardenia tree near my apartment window. The tree shows so many different phases with the changing seasons. It becomes leafless during Fall but during Winter it starts getting cute white buds. By February or March it is full of white Gardenia spreading its enchanting fragrance every where. It is a resting place for all colorful and for not so colorful birds that visit our patio to feast on the bird feed that we leave there for them.

 

This tree does not look as old as my sacred fig but I am sure it has at least few stories to share. I am getting my kids acquainted to this story telling business. Hope they can find a friend like I did who always stays there for you. Who makes you realize that you are not just limited to a small, narrow story of your home. You are not suppose to be a victim of the trap laid by your own emotions but you are a part of a much wider, bigger story of nature. You are limitless!