It was not an apple tree! It was a guava tree.
Prologue:
“ life is not the number of breaths that you take……
it is the number of moments that take your breath away…..” Hitch (2005)
Not all trees live that long. There were others in the “bagan”, but this one was the special one. Just right to the main door, all of it stood- the white bark, the green leaves, the short but stout branches and my favourite “p’yaras”!
We just loved the tree! We never realized that it was a part of our group, a part of every mischief, every cricket match, every shade, every swing, every climb…….
Every summer vacation we would spend at least a week at Mamar-Bari. And the four of us would have a “blast”. Tree, Pintu, me and Chiku (in order of our ages). I’d bat, Pintu would bowl, Chiku would field and the Tree would be as well as keep the wicket(s)! Later we would sit by the shade and discuss new pranks.
The early nineties are a bit hazy, but I remember some of the “more-fun” things we used to do. We would make paper boats and race them in the ditch and sometimes we would make our own little swing. We would sling a rope over the longest branch and tie it up, then put a cushion on it and keep swinging the rest of the day. The odd fall or the little extra time spent with it would result in a sore bum in the evening. I didn’t mind though , because it was so much fun doing it all over again the next day.
Then came the “boys will be boys” phase!
We developed a special liking for these “cowboy” stunts, in the mid-nineties. We used to pretend that we were rangers or something… and we used to roam around all afternoon in the “bagan” in search of animals. Goats that would accidentally wander into the wrong side of the fence would make for an easy prey. The three of us would jump on the poor animal, capture it, and tie it up to the tree, and try to feed it leaves and grass… then some kite or an ice-cream “thella” would catch our fancy and we would forget all about the poor animal! Then in the evening the worried owner would pass by looking around for the animal and “by chance” locate it in our garden, tied up neatly to the Tree. That would ensure that we all had a quieter evening and suspended “Cowboy-stunts” for at least a couple of days.
I was just over nine when I learnt how to climb a tree! And witness to this no-minor-feat was my favourite Tree. It was June and the fruits were eatable. Something told me I was ready….. First I held on to the main bark, then the lower side branch and then a quick parallel bar thrust and I was perched right up there. The sight of my favourite fruits hanging just 10 centimeters from my eyes was “super cool”! Even though, I was still some 8845 meters downhill, I certainly do have an idea how Hillary must have felt after conquering The Everest.
Long before I was told that Asbestos was carcinogenic, I knew it was used for making roofs. We had an asbestos roof at “mamar-bari”. The important thing was, that the Tree was so placed, that if one could climb on to the third level of branches he could easily get on top of the roof. What began as another one of those daredevil stunts, soon turned into our favourite hobby. Having access to the roof now meant we never lost balls that were hit that extra hard, or kites that crash landed on it during a duel, and now we could sink our teeth into the bigger “p’yaras”. The “dham-dhum” noises would drive Ma and Mami out of their wits as they would run out of the house only to find the three of us dancing on top of the roof….
Then on one visit, we saw a bald Tree… we were told it had died. Though the leaves were now gone, it stood almost in the same manner that we were so used to seeing, and in the SAME place too, not the whole of it, just the bark and the branches. And now it was out of the group.
“We grew up this fast? “, was the only thing that came to my mind when I took “a walk down memory lane” via some of the old photographs marking our growing-up years……
Epilogue:
“If it was growing up that I was more concerned about; I could have been more patient”, some wise guy had to say.
“Apples are the costlier fruits, still!! “, prompt came the reply.
I still wonder what happened to the bark.
Here is how some decent guy thought of IT in a similar way.
Meri Kahani ( Atif Aslam )
Jhula jhulaye, yeh panghatnadiya kinare,
yeh aangannindya to aana,
hawa ke sangmujh ko bhe tu dikhana apne rang,
suno mere dil jani yeh kahani mani
ek din mere sang yeh jahan tha
mera kuch aur tera bhi arman
jane dil main kya kuch ya basa tha
yeh meri hai kahani
yeh meri kahani.....
Prologue:
“ life is not the number of breaths that you take……
it is the number of moments that take your breath away…..” Hitch (2005)
Not all trees live that long. There were others in the “bagan”, but this one was the special one. Just right to the main door, all of it stood- the white bark, the green leaves, the short but stout branches and my favourite “p’yaras”!
We just loved the tree! We never realized that it was a part of our group, a part of every mischief, every cricket match, every shade, every swing, every climb…….
Every summer vacation we would spend at least a week at Mamar-Bari. And the four of us would have a “blast”. Tree, Pintu, me and Chiku (in order of our ages). I’d bat, Pintu would bowl, Chiku would field and the Tree would be as well as keep the wicket(s)! Later we would sit by the shade and discuss new pranks.
The early nineties are a bit hazy, but I remember some of the “more-fun” things we used to do. We would make paper boats and race them in the ditch and sometimes we would make our own little swing. We would sling a rope over the longest branch and tie it up, then put a cushion on it and keep swinging the rest of the day. The odd fall or the little extra time spent with it would result in a sore bum in the evening. I didn’t mind though , because it was so much fun doing it all over again the next day.
Then came the “boys will be boys” phase!
We developed a special liking for these “cowboy” stunts, in the mid-nineties. We used to pretend that we were rangers or something… and we used to roam around all afternoon in the “bagan” in search of animals. Goats that would accidentally wander into the wrong side of the fence would make for an easy prey. The three of us would jump on the poor animal, capture it, and tie it up to the tree, and try to feed it leaves and grass… then some kite or an ice-cream “thella” would catch our fancy and we would forget all about the poor animal! Then in the evening the worried owner would pass by looking around for the animal and “by chance” locate it in our garden, tied up neatly to the Tree. That would ensure that we all had a quieter evening and suspended “Cowboy-stunts” for at least a couple of days.
I was just over nine when I learnt how to climb a tree! And witness to this no-minor-feat was my favourite Tree. It was June and the fruits were eatable. Something told me I was ready….. First I held on to the main bark, then the lower side branch and then a quick parallel bar thrust and I was perched right up there. The sight of my favourite fruits hanging just 10 centimeters from my eyes was “super cool”! Even though, I was still some 8845 meters downhill, I certainly do have an idea how Hillary must have felt after conquering The Everest.
Long before I was told that Asbestos was carcinogenic, I knew it was used for making roofs. We had an asbestos roof at “mamar-bari”. The important thing was, that the Tree was so placed, that if one could climb on to the third level of branches he could easily get on top of the roof. What began as another one of those daredevil stunts, soon turned into our favourite hobby. Having access to the roof now meant we never lost balls that were hit that extra hard, or kites that crash landed on it during a duel, and now we could sink our teeth into the bigger “p’yaras”. The “dham-dhum” noises would drive Ma and Mami out of their wits as they would run out of the house only to find the three of us dancing on top of the roof….
Then on one visit, we saw a bald Tree… we were told it had died. Though the leaves were now gone, it stood almost in the same manner that we were so used to seeing, and in the SAME place too, not the whole of it, just the bark and the branches. And now it was out of the group.
“We grew up this fast? “, was the only thing that came to my mind when I took “a walk down memory lane” via some of the old photographs marking our growing-up years……
Epilogue:
“If it was growing up that I was more concerned about; I could have been more patient”, some wise guy had to say.
“Apples are the costlier fruits, still!! “, prompt came the reply.
I still wonder what happened to the bark.
Here is how some decent guy thought of IT in a similar way.
Meri Kahani ( Atif Aslam )
Jhula jhulaye, yeh panghatnadiya kinare,
yeh aangannindya to aana,
hawa ke sangmujh ko bhe tu dikhana apne rang,
suno mere dil jani yeh kahani mani
ek din mere sang yeh jahan tha
mera kuch aur tera bhi arman
jane dil main kya kuch ya basa tha
yeh meri hai kahani
yeh meri kahani.....
