The Final Gift

I stand here today on behalf of all members of my specie,

I am Dhaman, age thirty three,

Botanical name –Grewia Tiliifolia,

And for your records – An Aarey Tree

Surrounded by the remains of my brothers and sisters,

I stay rooted here, alone,

My family was murdered, in cold blood,

2141 of them, in 40 hours all gone.

Just a tree, did you call me?

Well, I am a mother,

Nurturing, nourishing 290 wildlife species,

I am a safe haven,

Home to 27 tribal legacies,

I am a safety blanket,

The city’s largest natural air filter,

Protecting from toxic particulate matter,

And flooding Mithi river waters,

I am the producer of the essence of life – Oxygen,

I am Mumbai’s only green lung.

The development, the progress that you so dearly cherish,

If it kills us, then you also perish,

If you have to develop, first develop this,

The strength and wisdom to co-exist,

Nature is Earth’s ATM,

And you have reached the withdrawal limit,

How can you keep demanding, without making any deposit?

Delhi is already a gas chamber, let Mumbai breathe,

Fresh air, clean water or faster commute to office,

What is it that you humans really need?

Will you correct your actions, before it’s too late?

Before you wipe out the next generation’s fate,

Before you turn the Amazon Rainforest into the Amazonian Desert,

The Ganga Delta into the Gangetic Wastelands,

The air into a compilation of toxic fumes,

Under gas masks will be buried children of man.

Before I go, I give you my final gift,

This little seed –tiny and brown,

It contains life itself,

Creating magic from the ground.

Guard it well dear children, and with care you must sow,

For one day when we all are gone,

This will be your only hope, your only hope.