Memories came crashing down
Ancient trees are a part our past, but when they die they take along a bit of us
At10.00 am. I was on my way back home from the daily ritual of market visit. Heavy downpour accompanied by gusty winds made the task of brisk walking a little difficult. Just then, I noticed people running in the opposite direction towards the playground which had nothing, but two mini football goalposts and a huge banyan tree adjacent to it. I could now hear the gongs of a Fire Brigade at a distance, with some kids still running towards the playground. When I reached the spot, my eyes could not believe what I witnessed.
A part of history had come crashing down on the ground. The magnanimous Banyan tree which stood tall for many decades was now lying still on the ground with its roots uprooted. Even a six foot fireman looked tiny in front of that fallen piece of history. In all these years, that the tree stood tall, how many birds must have built their nests on it? How many newborns must have taken their first leap towards the sky, only to return one day to have their own family? So many generations must have played using its branches as swings when modern gadgets did not exist. Kids must have enjoyed every bit of the swing created out of its branches. There must have been a mutual trust that existed between that tree and kids that it would never let them fall down.
With the passage of time several people must have sat below that tree under the wide spread shade knowing it’s the only comfort in the sweltering heat. Not even once did the tree ask for any returns for the comfort, joy and protection it provided to all the living creatures from time to time. It witnessed all the good and the bad that happened in the past till the very moment it came crashing down. From old houses to multi-stories, from a mere muddy open space to a mini football ground, from the celebrations to mourning’s, time in and out it had seen it all.
Today, a part of bygone era was lying helpless in front of all of us and we could do nothing. Every single branch cut by the firemen was like a piece of history cut into pieces. Kids who once played around it were today either too old to reciprocate their grief over what had happened or had migrated to other parts on the planet Earth. Others who once enjoyed the coolness under its shade had changed their route with the changing times. Only the loud chirping of the birds was symbolic to the grief that all was not lost or forgotten. The ones who took their first leap were now ready to nosedive only to give company to their all-time guardian who was cut into several pieces, only to be carried away leaving nothing behind, but just a few logs and huge chuck of memories.