The Male Papaya Tree
In my childhood days, we used to have a full-fledged kitchen garden in the backyard of my house. I used to look at one of the Papaya trees that had no fruits and wonder what it’s problem was. The tree looked green and healthy but the lack of hanging Papayas on it used to fill me with sheer disappointment.
Today, when I dare to look at myself in the mirror I only think of that papaya tree.
A body which looks neat and healthy but has no accolades attached. The only thing worsened is the increased level of disappointment and disgust.
Later, when I studied about it I came to know that it was just a male papaya tree that was never meant to bear fruits. That it was never his fault, it was his bad luck to be born this way.
It is there to produce pollens for the female plant and also some male flowers.
This clearly means it has a role to play but not exactly what we want.
My family expects me to bear the fruits of success and give them back the water, manure and sunlight they have given me, in the form of fruits.
Every year, I visit home once during the winter holidays. The lack of emotional attachement and the load of practical expectations rips my soul. The disappointment and humiliation stabs my heart into pieces. It would be unfair for them to expect nothing from me but a little love and care would have made all the difference.
The pain amplifies seeing an invasive weed being taken care of like a tiny rose sapling, even after knowing it would just spread, steal the nutrition and is harmful to the healthiest of trees.
With every winter I am feeling colder at home and back at the city the weather has no warmth either.
I look forward to producing pollens and flowers as plants can’t kill themselves.
The only hope I carry is that someday people would understand that it’s not my fault to not be able to serve what I am expected and I am just a male papaya tree waiting to be watered and hugged maybe.
