A tree is felled
The Earth shakes,
The man with the axe, Unmoved
A tree is felled
The Earth shakes,
The man with the axe, Unmoved
On the mighty plains, under the setting sun,
There flowed a mighty river
On its silty banks, there sat a lost man,
Much did he cry and quiver.
Through snuffles and shivers, he
gathered his voice, a few words he spun
To mother river, thus spoke, a beaten farmer son.
In utter grief, he partook in a dip, and the river knew of his tears
To allay her son of all his fears, the river whispered in his ears.
When met with rocks of refusal, my child,
Do not stop, and submit to surrender
Like a gushing river in monsoon swell,
With a lovely grace, charge and meander.
But mother, when will it end, this dreadful season of sorrow?
Without a rain, why should I sow, hope for tomorrow?
Trust the gradient of life, flow, do not ask for a reason why
Believe and be true to your spirit, surely shall you thrive
And even if the farmland is parched, desolate, run dry
The clouds are riding on the wind, wait as they arrive.
How long could I wait for, it has been too long a while
When the hand that feeds the world sleeps hungry, life seems all too futile.
To deem life futile is but futile my son, do not submit to a passive revolt
Ever wondered why I drain my fresh water in an ocean full of salt?
My end may seem tragic, but my life is magic, despite tides high or low
For the meaning of life is not in the end, but in all the life I create as I flow.
So, arm yourself with a sickle, and set out on your challenging quest
When fortune finds you working hard, shall you reap a bountiful harvest
Gather all your courage my son, despite darkness however deep
Arise, awake and march on, there is no time for you to weep
You have a world to feed after all, and promises plenty to keep
Set out in the field and make a change, even a little step is a giant leap.
The clouds heard their conversation, and together did they ply
To congregate and condense, to become a river in the sky
And thus the elements conspired with nature at the helm
As the first drop of rain and the last teardrop of the farmer, fell in tandem
And amid the drizzle, in ecstasy, the farmer ran to his farm
And the wise old river, blessed her child, and flowed on with a loving charm…
Rooster Rex and Helen the hen,
Snuggle up, in their little den,
They warm each other, on a bed of hay,
And cuddle lovingly, in every which way
And when the world mocks the hen,
For sitting idle all day,
The rooster finds his zen
And keeps all the naysayers away
There are chirrups in the barn, a few weeks hence
The rooster wails aloud, from atop the fence
Little chicks, they snuggle up like Golden balls
As they coo gently, to mama hen’s calls
The rooster, the hen, feel vindicated
The gift of children, comes not too belated
The wise rooster marches, stomping his legs,
He calls all naysayers, he pleads and begs
‘If you must sit idle’ says rooster Rex
Make sure you’re warming, a bed of eggs.
Two flags flutter across borders,
The wind touches them
Just the same.
If a tree had eyes,
And man had a conscience
What would happen
When their eyes meet?
A Sapling always looks up to a tree,
A Tree never looks down upon a sapling
That is the only way how,
Forests are created.
Photo : Bryan Minear via Unsplash
Arrogance is unheard of
Even the sun makes way
It must be the love for life,
That the Sun and Earth Swirl,
At just the right distance.
Photo : Anthony Rossbach via Unsplash
A mother’s clock
To care for life.
In the village of Karmapur, there stood a young mango tree in a small farm. In the ten years of its life, the mango tree had never flowered and borne fruit. It was deemed an an infertile tree by the villagers. Nobody paid attention to it after a point, and it grew forlorn at the edge of a farm.
The farm belonged to a young farmer named Ramakant. He was facing a difficult time in his life. Repeated crop failures and famines had forced him to borrow from moneylenders at a huge interest. In hope that monsoon arrived on time, he sowed his crop and waited patiently. This was his last chance to get himself out of the debt trap.
The monsoon was delayed by two weeks already. Every passing day robbed him of a little hope. One evening, as he was strolling on his farm, he looked at the parched earth on his land. He looked to the sky but there wasn’t a single cloud in sight. The mango tree on his farm stood at a corner witnessing all of this.
A dejected Ramakant went to his house and got a rope. He climbed onto a branch of the mango tree and tied one end of the rope to it. He made a noose out of the other end and slid it around his neck. Tears were streaming down his eyes. He thought he had no other choice.
He had decided to end his life.
He jumped down from the branch he was sitting on, hoping to hang himself to death. But as soon as the rope got tense, the branch of the mango tree snapped. Ramakant fell down on the grown, injured his ankle and lost consciousness.
Soon, the villagers found Ramakant and rushed him to the hospital. He was unconscious for the whole night. The next morning, he woke up to the sound of deafening thunder and rain. Even though he found himself with a plastered foot in a hospital bed, he was happy to be alive.
The rain gave him hope.
After two weeks, he was able to walk on his feet again. He strutted slowly to his farm. To his delight, all the seeds he had planted had germinated after the rain. His little farm was bursting with a hundred shades of green.
He walked a bit further and stood under the Mango tree from where he had jumped.
What he saw took him by surprise. At the place of the broken branch where he had fallen from, ten new branches had shot out with great vigor. Tender leaves had appeared in place of the wound. The tree displayed the spirit of fighting to the very end.
Ramakant bowed down to the tree in gratitude. He had learned a profound lesson. As a mark of respect, he started to water the mango tree everyday.
Owing to a good monsoon spell that season, Ramakant’s farm got a bountiful harvest. He was able to start repaying his debts little by little.
In spring time, he got another wonderful surprise at his farm. The mango tree that was thought to be diseased and infertile by the whole village, bloomed with flowers for the first time ever in its life !
Ramakant was delighted to watch his mango tree flower. That summer, when he harvested the first mangoes from his tree, he was taken over by a deep, satisfying happiness.
‘Thank you my mango tree’ he said sitting on a branch.
The mango tree swayed with the summer breeze. It only sacrificed one branch to save Ramakant’s life. But that was enough to trigger a favourable turn of events.
For the rest of its life the mango tree gave plenty of shade and bore thousands of mangoes every summer. Ramakant watered it everyday and enjoyed its reassuring presence.