The Neem Tree

Have seen many a summer and withstood thunderstorms

Over the past hundred years or so – have lost track of time.

Loving memories to cherish, hundreds of nests I housed

With sweet chirping of little birds being music to my ears.

I stood in a corner with my arms spread out far and wide

And when I blossomed, blankets were stretched on the ground

To collect my white blooms lest they be covered with dust.

Children were delegated to pick up the blankets with flowers 

To their homes where the flowers sauted in ghee would blend

With ripe mangoes for a bitter-sweet dish on New Year’s Day.

I have witnessed several arguments and fights between couples,

Siblings, friends and also unknown strangers over petty things

Heard sweet nothings exchanged between lovers and newly-weds.

Occasionally I would reach divinity when some devout worshipper

Smeared turmeric and Kumkum and tied a bright cloth on my trunk!

Spotting a serpent at my roots, impelled others to offer milk.

My presence sanctified the place, while a few dreaded me at night

Scared of ghosts haunting the neighbouring tamarind tree.

Decades I was grounded fighting all weather, and when I bore fruit 

Parrots flocked creating a pandemonium with birds and squirrels

I enjoyed them chasing each other across my outstretched arms!

For a change, I would be visited by troops of the monkey family

Happily jumping all over me, tickling my ribs or thumping my back!

Then all was suddenly silent – no birds, no squirrels – only men!

The plot had changed hands!! A buzz of activity commenced

The forsaken lane saw many a footfall to negotiate in my shade.

   

In a few days, construction workers camped at the site

Plots demarcated, bore wells dug, cars whizzed past and for all

I was the shade-giver, the dining area, but above all, the bedroom

For the infants whose mothers laboured from dusk to dawn

Cosily tucking their babies in hammocks strung on my branches;

Hammocks of soft cotton sarees which were beyond repair.

I loved these cherubic faces and would sway to let them sleep

Sleep, till they felt the pangs of hunger, to be quickly appeased

By mothers who sensed their needs and held them to their breasts.   

The supervisor could not tolerate their absence and would yell

As mothers hurriedly filled their little tummies to get back to work.

The angels look around in their cosy swinging saree cradles

And soon close their eyes to drift to the Land of Nod

Dreaming of fairies playing and making them laugh and cry.

I loved their innocent peals of laughter which were short lived

Since silent spasms of sobbing and whimpering would follow.

As the clock struck five, the women folk would hug their loved ones

Leave for home, waving me goodbye till they came the next morn.

Villas came up in the vicinity, the occupants rejoiced seeing me

Plucking a few of my tender leaves to chew on their morning walks.

I was invincible as I was the panacea for all ailments mild or severe.

I lived my life, eagerly awaiting the dawn for the birds to awake,

Watching labourers arrive for work and doze at my roots at noon

I waited for the uncle next door to prop up his chair to settle

With his newspaper and within a short while, start snoring!

Alas! Good days don’t last for ever and my end too drew near.

The land whose border I reigned gloriously, changed hands.

My base which was five feet broad, intruded their territory.

The JCB was deployed to uproot me but it was an uphill task

So as the first step, they chopped off my arms and sawed my trunk.

I resisted, did not give in easily, but put up a tough fight.

Clawing and pushing, the JCB scarred me but I was unmoved.

It took whole of two days of persistent effort to shake me a little.

A new tactic was employed – clearing the soil around my roots.

Clipping away whatever roots that were knotted together

Their hopes soared when they would occasionally twist my roots.

As they tried and tried again, but gave up that evening, 

A little girl came to gather all the small saplings that had sprouted

From seeds scattered by the birds that had perched on me!

At night a thought flashed my mind – am I rightfully obstinate?

I have lived for over a century, and I need to vacate my space

To let new trees come up and also to make way for progress!

The JCB was only employed to clear the land for more dwellings

To meet the demands of innumerable homeless humans.

The next morning, the JCB arrived but even before it came near

I fell as if prostrating at its feet, seeking pardon for being rigid.

Soon the place was cleared, all parts of my body were severed

To facilitate transporting them to the saw mills for conversion.

I left my erstwhile home, glancing at the little saplings which

Henceforth will carry on the legacy for better times to come.