The Three Tall Trees

Kusum was house-hunting with her husband. This new town was taking its toll on her health. She had been constantly sneezing. There was a bad cough too. The house which they had initially shifted to was not at all healthy for her asthmatic lungs. It was on ground floor,closed from all sides by a huge boundary wall. She wanted to immediately change the house and move into an apartment at two floors above the ground where fresh air and sunlight can stream in, also she wanted to see the mountains surrounding this town.

The broker was walking them from room to room, showing off it's best features. "You can see the mountains madam" he smiled knowingly,it seemed like an usual request. When he opened the bedroom window Kusum noticed the trees. Just outside the window stood three tall trees in a row. What made the owners plant only three such trees she wondered. They were saal trees like the saal trees of her village home.She recognized the huge leaves, the similar leaves which they used to eat on picnics in her ancestral home long time ago.

Kusum's ancestral home was on a fertile stretch of village of land abundant in rivers and trees. The house itself was palatial with a garden full of huge saal trees, mango trees, guava trees and jamun trees. Although they owned a big house, her grandparents were not rich, they had a meagre income from fruits and vegetables grown in the orchard and grandmother had a milch cow whose milk she sometimes sold. When the house was full of her grandchildren she made lovely kheer for them all but gave the largest portion to Amrit, the first grandson, he was her favourite kid. Seeing the saal trees Amrit came to her mind, after a long time and with it came all the memories rushing back in through the window. The jamun tree was his favourite haunt. Many childhood summers were spent on its branches. So many winters they had walked hand in hand among the saal trees thicket. The fallen leaves of saal crushing under their feet with a crunchy sound . The whole village went about their job while they, two young children then would do nothing but find solemness in nature's lap. Her husband's voice jolted her out of the reverie. "So... you like this flat? Shall I finalize..?". "Yes"... and she secretly wiped a single tear from her eye.

Right from the age of 5 Kusum had Amrit as her playmate. Amrit was her next cousin. They were born in the same year, only 15 days apart. They looked very cute together, she was small and fair in a colourful frock and he was tall for age, high cheekbones, a thick mop of curly hair on his head. He would always lead in front with her trailing behind. The vacation summers and winters were chaotic times for their grandparents, all the family would gather, there were 4 uncles with respective aunts and 7 cousin brothers and sisters. Kusum was oldest among all but Amrit never let her feel that way. He was always the boss, the elder brother, the protector and it seemed to him that Kusum needed his most protection. She too never denied his supremacy in all games even though she was the smartest.

At 10 years of age Amrit decided he wanted to be a farmer like grandpa. He managed to get hold of a hoe, and kept hacking the dry ground here and there. Kusum was his slave. "kusum, come here, kusum go there, kusum bring water, kusum bring the jamun seeds, i will grow a jamun tree here"On the last day of that summer vacation he cut himself, a large deep cut needing stitches. Seeing the blood and bandage all the other children abandoned the place, but Kusum stayed by his side.

Amrit was a master mischief maker and Kusum was his constant companion. She never did tell on him ever. To questions like, who kept the aachar jar open? who let the calf out? where did the sweets go? who wet all the dry clothes? who ate all the jamun and wiped the face on great-grandmother's white sari thereby staining it purple? the answer was Amrit, but Kusum stood by him never telling his name. It pained her to see Amrit being thrashed by his father. In return for her loyalty Amrit gave her the best smile, the best ripe mango and the best place in his heart.

The teens were rough on him. He fared miserably in studies. He rode the bike early, learnt to drive, had a bevvy of rookie friends all to the chagrin of his parents. Kusum on the other hand breezed through high school and entered college. They did not meet often, but whenever they did Amrit spoke too much. He mostly took her to the saal forest at the corner of the village and talked and talked about his dreams and aspirations, his friends, a girl pen-friend he had made. Kusum remained quite, she was still taken totally in awe by Amrit, she could not yet see anyone beyond him, he was still that one "boy" person in her life she can go unharmed to, feel protected, secure.

That year the family decided to meet during the durga puja holidays. Amrit never left her side, he followed her everywhere. Kusum obliged too seeking time out to chat with him. They had both grown up. At 21 years of age Amrit stood 6 feet tall, he would constantly honk his bike and urge Kusum to go pillion riding. Kusum 's mom was furious, not allowing her to ride the bike in a sari fearing an accident. The other relatives also wanted Kusum to sober down and urged her mother to look for a groom for her. Amrit would occasionally sulk and fret and could not be found anywhere for hours. It was the smell of wonderful food that grandma cooked which brought him back to the dinner table. With the whole family complete fun and laughter and loud voices echoed long into the cool October night.

They had said goodbye, they both knew it was a sort of end of the road. The cousins were growing up, they had frequent exams, the parents were getting old, responsibilities were abundant, Kusum and Amrit felt they had to go their separate ways, they did not know when the next family reunion may happen.

The pain was too much to bear. Kusum closed the bedroom window. The leaves of the three saal trees rustled in the wind. Amrit was killed in a road accident three days after he had pecked Kusum goodbye.