They reside inside trees

 

entry 66 

July 11, 2020

At some level, I like to personify stuff and all might be that’s somewhat acted as immunity against narcissism and hedonism. My Baji (Grandfather) was a straight forward and a bit rough kind of person. One who had served in the army during two very decisive wars (that of ’47, as a young recruit and ’71), It was normal of a person to be of that nature given the circumstances. He was a traveler and an explorer. He bought an Ambassador after retiring of the rank of Havaldar and drove it as a taxi. As a taxi driver, most of his expeditions were limited between Jammu and Srinagar. And how could one forget the heartiest desire of him to take me once to Patnitop, if everything went well. Alas! That could never happen as the incurable disease got better out of him. But one thing was obvious by the way he used to eulogize about Patnitop that that place had a special place inside his heart. And more than the desire of him to take me there I think he himself wanted to reach there, badly.

 

The reminiscence of his telling that he once drove a Mahajan couple of Jammu to Hyderabad, makes me still hard to believe given the fact that he was a fouji who was part of war twice and for both participations he had been awarded, but he never exaggerated the facts or his participation.

i)                    The General Service Medal with Clasp Jammu & Kashmir- 1947 [ For service in J&K between 27 October 1947 and 1 January 1949 for those who took part in combat or served an aggregate of 180 days with units or formation operating in or located in a specific operational or concessional areas]

ii)                   The Sangram Medal [ was awarded for service during the 1971/72 war with Pakistan]        

 

Here I’m not laying any claim of Baji being at front fighting with a weapon, to be honest, I don’t know much about it. And I do feel remorse of not been able to ask and enquire about his side of the story of military service, as he left this dimension of ours quite before I had gained much of conscience. But given that both the medals have got a special mention in his discharge book and I’m still in possession of both, to substantiate. His no-bullshit kind of attitude does persuade me to believe in his Hyderabad tale.

I belong to a family that still addresses trees (especially mango one) by the name of a plant, e.g. – the trees planted by Baji are addressed as Baji ala Amb (Grandfather’s mango tree). From the past three generations, almost every member has planted a tree or more. Though my grandparents are far gone, they are survived by us and the trees they once planted. As I had made it quite clear from the start that I do have a proclivity to personify, and I believe it firmly that a part of them was passed on to plants the way it has been passed on to us; and is still alive in each one of them. The parallel of transmission is not drawn on a genetic basis or transcendental realm but on a humble scientific basis of interactions of energy between two interacting bodies.

 

 

When I visit my farm, at present, partly occupied by the orchard of Dusheri mangoes and partly by Desi mangoes, and other trees e.g. Safeda, Indian Rosewood, Tunu, Semal, plants (lemon, galgal, orange, kimb), majority of them (98%) of them were planted by him. The site is full of emotions and creates nostalgia of how Baji used to come home all furious, shedding abuse to the sick-minded who had just cut a blossoming plant from the tip. This repugnant act used to disturb him a lot. Like, he (empathetically ) could experience what the plant might have felt when that bizarre beheading was committed. Like, he was angry at the helplessness of self that he couldn’t stop that sin. 

As of being forthright, Baji had enmity among few, who didn’t dare to face him upfront but got immense fulfillment by hitting him where it hurt him the most. And oh dear friend! They succeeded in doing such acts many a time. And we as a family had to bear the wrath of his uncontrolled fits of anger, imprints of those traumatic events still resurfaces in some form of anxiety. When it comes to satisfying ego, people can be real mean and retrograde. All these acts were not less than a crime and treachery. There is a certain level of trust that a person bestows over the society, kind of, man you don’t mess with certain rights and ownership of mine and you'd enjoy the same reciprocity, even if the person is an arch enemy. This trust is not compounded with blindness but faith. Harvest, plantation, livestock, water supply, etc. are among those non-negotiated mutually agreeable trusts. And when some sick-minded messes with the balance, it generates a great sense of indignation, and the worst of all is when the scruples of own hinders one to be deleterious to avenge. Such acts disturb the prevailing balance of the society and generate a newer ones.

Though they might have been able to cut a few but many survived and a present, some are standing at astounding heights. Height, that reflects the maturation of that creature headed towards senility. So many  times, wood traders visit us inquiring about the sale of wood. And it seems like one hell of the toughest decision.

Ideally, a tree of furniture wood should be cut as it reaches its maturation because after that it starts losing its sturdiness. So, basically to reach a decision to trade, is quite unsettling.  I do make sure that the decision is not driven by a capitalistic mindset. To plant a tree and take care of it is a part of our social responsibility. To allow its cutting feels like deviating from the inherited values. But the guilt is soon overcome by following Baji’s advice to plant more than cut. This policy has been followed by heart by our family and would make sure that same is passed on to future generations. Since the passing of Baji, we have sold two Safeda trees. They were sold after one year of his death and the reason being that both had outgrown and there was a huge possibility that they might fell during strong gust and block the link road and cause havoc. The electricity line would also have got damaged. Another reason, we were in dire need of money. With the loss, there was a reduction in revenue as of subtraction of his pension. And it took astute budget management and asset monetization to get out of the vicious cycle of credit. So basically the sale helped mother to pay off advances and get rid of compulsive thoughts of indebtedness. Matters of fact, these two eucalyptuses were planted by my father.

Nearby the dethroned majestic creatures, two plants of the same breed had grown as of natural pollination. Their roots were above the ground. So, they were uprooted and planted at a new place, with roots deep below so that when they grow, they have strength at the foundation. Now when the tunu tree would be cut down special care would be taken that the fall doesn’t cause any harm to nearby plants and roads too. The whole front of our farmland along the link road is adorned by the tunu trees. And no matter when they would be sold of, the front gonna remain the same, whole 200 meter dotted with trees in a single line.

There is one more tree with its own tale. The tale is of Babugosha, situated in the lawn at our home. The tree was planted by my Buji (Grandmother) about fifty years ago. She is long gone, almost seventeen years from now, but we still are able to get and taste her sweetness through babugoshas. Her munificence, from the cool shade of dense leaves, her tenderness from the blossoming flowers. Though the flowers are ephemeral and white petals fall down even with the gentlest of breeze with the softness of snowflakes, and ornate the whole ground as if it’s covered with snow. The flower-to-fruit conversion ratio has been declining rapidly but still, the blossoming in spring could melt any heart. Even if it stops providing fruit, we would still keep it. It’s given proper care, 30-40 Kgs. of manure is added to it every year. Old branches keep falling and we hope that the young twigs grow thicker and become sub-branches and main too. I was merely in 3^rd standard when she fell ill and didn’t know much about her pain and not even help my mother in her service towards Buji. And I know one thing clearly, given the time and man I’m now, I would have taken great care of her. Though I couldn’t do that but still I can take care of a part of her, some of her energy that has been passed on during the plantation would still be alive and present in Babugosha.

  Due care is taken during harsh summer or a long dry period, a good amount of water is added to the shallow base around its stem to keep it hydrated. With the same water, the villagers still give credit to her for the fight she led to bring piped water to every house of Krakhar. She fought for this humane cause diligently. She was like a de facto head of the whole village. Women empowerment is the talk among masses of recent times; she was a living example of what a strong-willed lady could do. When the gentlemen used to play cards sitting below the giant mango tree in the chowk(square), the band of ladies did all the serious talk. The reason being they knew what it takes to carry pots and buckets filled with waters for long distances. Even when the fortnight water tanker came, it was mostly the duty of ladies to empty the drums laying in the chowk. Anecdotal evidence says that once she derided the gents busy playing cards, mocking her leadership as a mere tour of the bazaar, by wittingly suggesting them to adorn bangles and apply polish to nails. Present-day feminist would definitely consider the comment harming the very cause, but imagine the late 80’s. Who cared!

Piped water reached the village in 2004, a year after she succumbed to the disease. People still talk about her with great veneration. The devotion that she showed for the cause and the way she united people is still talked with awe by all who had witnessed her leadership. One more anecdote that does around, this happened when the village didn’t get a water tanker for more than twenty days. She united all the ladies and took a bottle filled with borka tla’s (village pond) water. They say that she challenged the officer to drink that stinking water. Even the male accompanying the deputation was stunned by that move. The supply was restored to the village immediately and for a very long period of time, it remained uninterrupted.     

The main inspiration for writing this account was a tribute for grandparents for the things that they did for society by keeping general welfare ahead of themselves. Though both are long gone, still they are with us as they reside in trees that they planted. They are survived by us and the deeds that they committed and the trees they planted. Trees progeny will advance and blossom, keeping alive the human touch they contain. Do plant a tree once in a life, not talking about flowers, a tree which ages along with humans.

- mustaqbil