Bereavement of a Dear One

“Ignoring global warming is like crossing a road blindfolded.” ― Steve Merrick

It happened exactly at the time when President Trump said that America would no longer be a part of the Paris Climate Agreement.  Maybe it did make a difference or it did not make a difference to India, but we had undeniably lost a dear one named Nimi precisely at the same time at Rajyog Colony in Pune.  Do we lose young ones regularly? No, we have never known of such a loss in the forests or the parks, but we have seen the young and the old being hacked to death while converting the rich soil into residential concrete Jungles. Have we ever mourned such a loss? We have never spent a split second mourning as we are involved in our lives and keep toiling to make our lives more comfortable. Have we ever missed the bereaved? This question needs to be pondered upon as we haven’t experienced bountiful rains for the past few years, the place is hotter and we face sporadic changes in the climate making one contemplate the future.

We had witnessed Nimi, the young sapling growing rapidly in a spot where none in the area would have dared to. That evening when the world listened eagerly to a common cause, it was warmer than ever in Pune.  It was gloomy despite the brightness as we had lost the young one before its time. The sun shone brightly as people pulled their scarves around their head. No one lamented as they usually do when a person dies, but the pain was visible on every face. After all, Nimi was young and people aspired to grow old waiting for their dear ones in its shade. The crowd stood around blocking the path for the passers by. The silence in the evening was deafening, it seemed even the wind was a witness to this tragedy. People looked on at the dead one and hoped for the gush of  a cold current of air as a solace to their injured feelings, but there was no breeze blowing. Nimi lay sprawled on the road with its green foliage smiling; it was just a few feet away from the large road.

People wondered how green its leaflets were in spite of the long spells of heat.  Did it rain last week? No, it did not. It did not rain a bit in the past six months and no one was willing to give it a drop of water. It was self sufficient; it had spread its roots deep in the soil and bore green foliage. It began its life as a yellow seed in the Chintamani Colony, which was well lined with plants. People called the plant Neem, Vepa and many other names, but it was scientifically called Azadirachta Indica, and was also known as the Indian Lilac. There was a produce of seeds of the huge tree. Nimi the seed was rolled by naughty boys till they reached the main road where a vendor sold sour and sweetmeats. In their excitement they gave Nimi a hard kick before rushing to eat the sweetmeats.

 Nimi lay writhing in the sand bed between the shops and the road. The shopkeeper washed his hands at lunch time at the very spot helping Nimi get buried in the soil, swell and blossom into a sapling. Each day was an ordeal for Nimi, the dryness, and the wind blowing the sand. During the rains, Nimi pushed herself further into the soil, which helped her grow stronger. Within days Nimi was a foot above the soil and a foot deep into it. The strength helped her grow well. The only drawback was it had emerged from the earth, making a 70 degree acute angle with the earth.  The foliage was thick, green and the crown, well spread out. It was a getaway for school children who waited for their bus under the shade. It was a place cherished by the mothers who waited for their school going children to return, and it was a shady place for all the commuters to rest a while. As it grew taller, the angle between the earth and Nimi grew shorter, but the greenery was resplendent. The kids jumped on the bent branch, tried climbing up on the weak branches, but Nimi stood strong and happy, though it could not help bending. A crack had developed in the stem, but Nimi waited for the rains with the assurance of a sure healing.

On the day the Paris accord was cancelled the woody stem creaked and Nimi breathed her last. Little Grace sat next to Nimi the tree silently, she felt bad as Nimi was almost the only one on the barren road and trees were rare in the area owing to urbanisation. She plucked a few leaves as her mother would decorate their home with these and these leaves could dispel mosquitoes. Meena plucked a few branches and leaves, Sonja popped the yellowish white flowers in his bag for his grandmother who suffered from  chronic stomachaches, the branches could be chewed to strengthen the gums of her family members and was used a ‘Dhatoon’ to clean their teeth. Mahesh carried his sickle and cut Nimi mercilessly into many small logs and everyone took their share. There was no carcass, no bad smell or blood while disposing the mortal remains. Nimi’s stump was left at the spot as a reminder to the people of Rajyog Colony to plant a new Nimi during the rainy season with definite calculations, so that the tree grows straight strong and lives till posterity.

 ‘“There is simply no issue more important. Conservation is the preservation of human life on earth, and that, above all else, is worth fighting for.” ― Rob Stewart