On Un-Killing a Tree

The mango tree fell during a storm, one night. It didn’t hurt a soul. Resolute and slow, it tilted towards the ground. In the morning, we found it prostrate across our garden. The farthest branches had thoughtfully contained themselves, only two feet from our front door. The tree continued to flourish (as if taking a 5-month-long nap was the most natural thing to do!).

It reclined in that position, through the long summer and the relentless monsoons. We were too jittery to attempt a rescue, with the branches laden with hundreds of unripe mangoes. It was too dangerous to wade through the swampy garden to push the tree upright. So, we waited.

For Rs 100, a gardener would have gladly chopped off the trunk and cleared our yard. It was an hour’s work, at most.

We decided to be benevolent.

In late September, we hired about a dozen labourers and rented equipment. They hauled for painfully exhausting hours, well past sunset. We bought truckloads of firm soil to reinforce the base. We spent almost Rs 10,000 in all.

This world doesn’t reward good deeds.

I almost wish we were the bad guys.