A Sacred Fig, or the Bodhi tree, is a magical being. There is one behind my apartment, in the neighbour’s compound, and it swishes its heart-shaped leaves just outside my kitchen window on the third floor. The leaves shiver in many directions but in unison, like the individual players in a symphony who manage a harmony so beauteous just by being in sync. The slightest of breeze draws me to the window, making my chopping, cutting and cooking tasks so much more enjoyable.
We started a conversation, the tree and I, when I moved in here a year ago. The roosting crows added to the chit chat very often, and the pigeons joined in from the ledge nearby. In the rains, the leaves glistened and in the heat of the dog days in May, the dust-caked dryness added their stories. Just a few months ago, a new nest had appeared too.
Today I wake up to the sound of electric blades and I think nothing of it. It sounds like the neighbours are using their mixers in the kitchen early in the morning. Early mangoes to make juice from? I go to the kitchen to start the kettle for tea and stand perplexed. The light is bright in the vacant window where the saws are working.
in the gap
between autumn mountains
a setting sun
in this barren garden
who will listen to my laments now?
Oh what heartbreak! I'm so sad for you
ReplyDeleteTruly heartbreaking... I did not see that coming
ReplyDeleteThank you gitanjali and Charu - that emptiness in heartbreak. Such lovely leaves the tree had, always trembling and saying something.
ReplyDeleteSuch an effective way to convey happened without needing to show it in more detail! And what a sad ending.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Sameer. The window is so vacant and empty.
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