When the unforgiving sun scorched the earth, it gave me shade. When our village was flooded and my crops were ruined, it gave me shelter. I sat on it for days, ate the fruits to live, till the water receded. I sold my house to grow new crops. It was burnt to dust because I refused to give half of it for their daughters wedding. Other farmers cut their trees to sell wood or burn it for the fuel, I didnâ€™t. I knew the tree, which gave life, would one day help me take mine. Hanging by it..
Today, the shortest one stands tall, lonely and sad.
Her regular visitors in fuzzy squirrels and chirpy birds had gone.
She longed for a friend.
â€œAre you hear to chop me down as well?â€, she asked.
â€œChop !!....No !!, I'm here to shade myself from the scorching sun.â€¦..in return, I'll sing for you all dayâ€, ten year old Genu heaved.
In a loud, unmelodious tone he began, but she didn't complain, swaying her branches in joy each time he paused.
After years, long lost happiness and in Genu, a friend she'd found..
He stood there in a trance.
His childhood had been spent here with his mother. under her watchful eyes and heartfelt care.
After his studies he moved to the city for better prospects taking his mother along.
He prospered, got a family and lived a happy life. Untill his mother fell sick and faded away silently.
Next day while clearing her possessions, he came across a letter. Mother's last wish had been to see her native fields.
Today he stood there and strew her ashes around the golden field and felt a lightness in his heart..
Across time he stands,
A gnarled torso,
With many a twisted protruding limb,
A tree, a friend to the sky, bright and dim.
His sight fixed on the canopy, blue,
Turned away from the sands,
Trembling leaves, his desires shoot through,
His Soul, entrenched in earth's heart,
From its bosom it drinks, its fill,
To quench an eternal thirst,
His eyes,to the rain-soaked earth return,
His thoughts swirl and churn,-
His roots,his anchor, the soil, his harbour,
His longings, though, on the clouds rest,
But his love, is his mired nest,
And Nature, his love's labour!
Ram and Hari had passed from an Engineering College and used their knowledge on their farm. They sowed a new hybrid variety of wheat and had a bumper crop. It was a pleasure to see the wheat glowing in the sun.
Just as they were to harvest the crop, Ram was killed in an accident. Hari was heartbroken. He brooded on how to keep Ram's memory alive. He got a statue of Ram erected in the field under a shady tree.
Ram would keep a WATCH on him and their field forever.
"You shall always be remembered Ramu"..
In our place we call him "OntHanuma"
He stood alone under a tree surrounded by vast black soil field, where chilly and cotton were grown.
Hanuman is no longer alone.
Fields are strewn with various footpaths created by people walking. Concrete structures are coming up and Hanuman no longer feels alone.
A hydel power plant was coming up in their village. They shifted to higher grounds, moving down plantations of all kind, to make way for it. The project was soon scrapped, but a large chunk of vegetation was lost.
An infamous weed named, congress grass, grew in the now flattened out plains, unchecked. At far it looked like a Savannah, but was in fact a verdure which suppressed the growth of other crops.
Everywhere he looked, it was spreading it's roots. Taking over many a farmlands.
Standing under a lonely tree
Seeing the leaves dancing in the breeze
Wondering how it stands so tall
Weathering all the adversities..
All it knows is to give
Offering shade when sunny
A place to hide when raining
Leaves start to change colour
Begin to die
And fall off with such grace
Making me wonder how gracefully the tree
Let go of something it has held
On to for so long!
As I stand in the shadow of hope
I find myself wishing
If only I could be as strong,
Graceful as this
He came, stood in the shade of the tree and silently looked at the dry grass. While watching the small movements made by breeze on the grass, he went into a deep thought. Few drops from his eyes started rolling down through his cheek. Maybe he is alone and sad thought the tree. The tree for years has seen many people who came under its shade. It felt happy with the happy ones, unhappy with the unhappy ones, as these are only people who made its loneliness go away. It lived its life by having moments with these people..
"Vasanta, I want saffronish shining vines & green grass in contrast."
He added, "And matching costumes...ok?"
"You will shoot, only after they hide....I don't want any mistakes this time...", he explained having papers in hand.
"Arrange that montains & pines, a little far, it looks too artificial..." He guides looking into the camera.
"It's a day so increase the brightness..." he tells the cinematographer.
"Ok then, everybody ready...." He looks around, showing thumbs up.
"Lights, Camera & Action...."
As he stands there gazing at the endless land culminating into blue, he could not help but notice the support the tree gave him. He knew he needed someone to hold his hand. But there was no one to wipe his tears. Then, the phone rang and he saw the person who called him was the one who made him grow. He picked up the call and said, â€œSorry Mom. I am not the kid you wanted me to. Next time, please donâ€™t make me leave youâ€. .
He dreamt of a fertile land, sowing the best seeds, being blessed by the rain God, happily seeing the seedlings peek, watering them, nurturing them and seeing them grown into a beautiful young crop.
He dreamt of ploughing, planting, harvesting and threshing. He dreamt of being unshackled from the landlordâ€™s loan.
He dreamt until he lost himself in the labyrinth of thoughts that led him to the field which was barren now. Cracked from pain. Now all he had was that dried up tree which once was his shade and the rope that once tied the bullocks.
Field is wide and clear. He is preparing for the final day. He has stood at the same point where he is planning to hang himself. He has made sure to stand with his head straight which he has kept bent ever since he took loan from that sucker financier of the village. He has selected the best view point to commit suicide. May be, because he wants to experience some ephemeral pleasure before getting stifled by the burden of debts. He has left no stone unturned to avoid dying but to no avail despite Governmentâ€™s social welfare.
He was known for his bravery. Nobody dared to look at the village when he was the guard. Criminals were scared of him.
But sadly now only the birds are scared of him..
"We are one, you and me, but I had to move, move around and distance my being so that I could feed you, my other half. I have to feed what you need. You need love and affection. You need blood and bones. And I am ready like never before to feed you, my love. I will watch you flourish, as you touch the sky." 65-year-old Sitaram was talking to his beloved tree, standing on the sun kissed yellow field. A muffled crying voice was heard. It came from under the ground beside the tree..
Walking through the field, remembering the golden days of my life, when my dad used to hold my hand and walk by my side. I used to run and feel wind against my skin, I did the same now but somehow it was different. That tree I used to climb to feel like King makes me feel like a loser now. Time sure flies, memories remain but people don't. A whisper in my ear, "I'm proud of you son" is all I wish for. Perhaps, it's too late now. .
The wind cannot defeat a tree with strong roots.â€ He paused running frames and his eyes glued to the screen. He was watching â€˜The Revenantâ€™ that day.
For entertainment, right?
As to genre it was adventure. Then what happened, why did his eyes become gloomy, why did reminiscences of past started playing in his head? How did Inarritu knew the same earthy language? And he thought his grandpa was rusticâ€¦a bumpkin fellow.
Cold flashes stuck on the core of his eyes in a form of drop. Instantly, he googled for next train, going to his village, to his fields. .
"So this week's theme is farmers' suicide."
"Why do you have to be such a spoilsport, dad? The crop looks so rich and beautiful."
"Managing to get a healthy crop is only one of the concerns. When managing to recover the cost can itself be challenging, marketing it for a good price is more worrisome."
"Instead of funding thousands of crores on consumer discounts, if someone funded agriculture, wouldn't we have gotten back to our farming glory?"
"The ex-farmer turned IIM grad just got his next startup idea.".
I breathed in the fresh air for one last time. The vast view was pleasing and still alluring. I didn't want to leave this world. But it wasn't a matter of choice. The decision had been made.
Sometimes when I look up from my desk and see the vast array of cubicles, I feel suffocated and am reminded of my home, making me wish, I hadn't rushed on to commit suicide. .