With the Peepal

A very special spot

The Peepal is at the fulcrum here. Initially this tree felt like a person I am familiar with. Today it is a friend I am comfortable with. One I like to share silences with.

The tree stands mid-way between the edge of the river and the verandah where I often sit these days; ie when I am not sitting beneath the tree or walking in the vicinity. At the same height as the verandah, it stands at the edge of the slope which rolls, away from the verandah, down to meet the river. The Ganga. At Banaras.

It appears unbothered by the other plants and trees around – other than of course the Neem which stands some feet away. But it does appear to tilt, as if in reverence, towards the river. Naresh Saxena in one of his poems talks about space – the need of space to enable better relations, stronger bonds. The Peepal appears to have that space and bonding with the river.

From the verandah I many a time notice the buffaloes wallowing at the opposite banks. For all our talk and stories about their size, looks and stubbornness they are a picture of sublime peace when wallowing. Often a motorized boat – somewhere between the buffaloes and I – breaks the silence. Or some person whom I cannot then spot raises his decibel levels. All this – as the birds continue to chirp.

Some places are fun to walk, others to sit. Rare is the place where both walking and sitting are equal fun. This is one such spot. Walking up and down the paths in the vicinity of the tree is more fun when accompanied with silences.

Spiders too, not unlike me, appear to favour the place. It is common to get webs all over one’s skin and clothes as one walks. To come across bushes and shrubs draped in webs – as if see-through sheets have been draped around the plants. Like with few other experiences in life – with these webs too – my initial awkwardness and irritation gave way to a sense of familiarity. A comfort that all around, the surroundings, are doing fine. And, as a corollary, so are we.

A few weeks ago, as I sat on the verandah a colleague asked: why do you not put the fan on? The humming of the old fellow, yellowed with going round and round, will have me miss out on the gentle symphony of the Peepal: was my response. That day, as I saw the leaves dangling, I too felt the wind! This despite being about 40 meters away with thick walls on 2 sides. Then, the Peepal leaves were young and shone in the sunshine. It has been a few weeks and today I, as I walk, I come across flowers of other trees (and plants) lying on ground. I have often wondered if this how the trees thank the earth?

Yesterday as I again sat on the verandah, I realized that against the backdrop of the open skies the trees appear more special. More trees. It was windy and the Peepal together with Neem created a song and dance – an orchestra of nature. The term neighbours did not describe them aptly. Ham-dosh, ham-navaa.n and hum-saayaa perhaps capture them better. There is uncontrolled joy, an abandon coupled with purity here – akin to a mountain stream. Like goes the immortal line in the song from Bimal Roy’s Madhumati – jaise alhad chale pi se mil kar. This is a music different music from the one I hear when trekking up and down the Oak and Cedar covered hills of Himachal Pradesh

My love for swaying leaves is not new found. Few years ago, somewhere amidst the central Indian forests a colleague had asked which bird I was looking at, for so long, and that too during the afternoon – we were resting post lunch. My response had left him bewildered: just looking at the leaves with the binoculars, they are captivating!

A friend had once told me how all birds appear more beautiful when seen with binoculars. Would it not be the same for trees and their swaying leaves?

Rains will be upon us in another few weeks now. That will mean one more friend joining in – adding to the fun as only s/he can. The spot will turn even more special.