THE LEGENDARY TREE
This June came in a form of a blessing for Delhi as the continuous rain showers gave relief from the sweltering summers that North India is famous for. But along with rains, come many problems such as hanging wires, over-flowing drains and fallen trees.
In the park in front of our house, stood an ancient Neem tree, bold as brass and gigantic as an elephant. The brown bark of the tree had grown rough and strong through the years as it withstood ages of weather and wind. The tree was a haunt for almost every kid in the neighborhood. It had a rope swing that we had installed many years back. Even though our park had modern swings made of metal and wood, that one rope swing seemed to be everyone’s favorite. Every day, each kid would try to be the first one to come to the park so as to be the on to get the rope swing. Perhaps it was the fact that we all had built that swing ourselves that attracted us towards it so much.
Over the years, we had become very attached to the swing. But the tree became even dearer. Five days ago, a violent tempest caused carnage in our locality. Wires came loose, cars were showered with broken branches and swirling masses of dust enveloped entire balconies. Amongst the chaos that the storm brought, came a heart-wrenching screech of wood breaking. All of us kids had been at one of my friend’s house for a movie in spite of the pandemic (we were bored to death and were really missing each other).
As soon as the noise entered the room, all of as jumped up and rushed outside. We stood at a window at my friend’s house that over-looked the park and saw our beloved tree kiss the ground. We began hearing sobs and turned to find my friend’s six-year-old sister, who was particularly fond of the tree swing, bawling her eyes out. We were all crest-fallen at the tree’s demise. We stared at the fallen tree as all the times of fun and enjoyment that took place in its swaying branches came rushing back to us. The games of hide-and-seek that had taken place in its lush green branches. The screaming at our top of the voices that we called “singing” as we sat there swinging from the rope swing.
Yes, the tree truly was special. After two more hours of torrential rain, Sun finally graced the neighborhood with its golden and warm rays. As soon as that happened, all of us kids ran flat out of the house, straight to the park to inspect the damage caused. It only confirmed what we already knew. The heavy rain and howling winds had knocked the tree right from its base. It was past the point of no return. My friend’s sister started crying again.
As we all stood there staring at the tree, I noticed something. I walked right up to the tree and bent down. Yes, what I saw was right. One of the branches held freshly produced Neem seeds. I plucked up a few of them and showed them to my friends. What I was thinking didn’t need to be converted into words to make the group understand. Every body nodded. I took the seeds home and took a small plastic box lined with cotton. I wet the cotton and embedded the seeds in it.
The next day, a team of MCD wood-cutters came and whisked the fallen tree away. They also found our little rope swing under one of its branches. Now, were the old neem tree once stood, bold and regal, stands its child, small and week but well-cared for. The half-germinated seeds of neem now lie in the very hole in which its parent stood once. We have also preserved the rope swing, hoping that the little tree would be able to fill the hole that the big one left in our hearts.
