My Bel Tree
Alone on the terrace, having lumbered out of the confines of my bed, I walked into a gossamer-thin dark veil stretching across the nebulous fringes of the sky, cradling the entire creation in its motherly lap. It was the next day already. My phone screen revealed that the date had changed about three and three-quarters of an hour ago. It had rained late last evening, but a few mischievous clouds had stayed back. They were now joyfully playing around the bright full moon. Frolicking in the midst of dark nothingness, were they busy collecting moonbeams to weave them into a robe for the night or did they form a part of the entourage of the princess of the dark realms and the full moon? Their presence added a hint of mystique to the night’s aura and cast a captivating spell all around me. It left me riveted to that very spot till the end of my reverie when the first shade of crimson emerged on the skies from those dark confines.
A stirring came alive on the eastern horizon, yet the palpable stillness around me was too mesmerising to be resisted. Compelled to explore it, I had to move away from my breathing. Being able to do so even for a few fleeting moments was a great revelation. Bathed in the moonshine and last evening’s rain, the trees, plants, flowers, and the whole creation echoed a lilting melody. It was a hymn to life, and the lyrics continued to emerge from the emptiness of the sky. The stillness that camouflaged the intense activity around the terrace and beyond made me feel a fresh surge of life permeating my whole being. How was it different from the water coursing up from roots to the most distant of the twigs in the entire vegetation there? The only difference was my heart which pumped it noisily to reach my tissues while the flowers and the leaves received it in silence and serenity. I wished I could stretch that momentary interlude into a lifetime, if not eternity. But, as the dark started yielding to light, I had to surrender to the realisation of my helplessness which made me move on. The balmy night gradually made way for a cherubic day. It left me alone, struggling with my yearning for that elusive stillness and silence. An invisible hand lifted the pall of darkness and unveiled a crimson robe enveloping the skies. Even that would yield an intense golden hue followed by ever-changing shades and colours until the dark veil descended again.
Silhouettes had started emerging out of the dark and lyrics out of the echoes of the hymn. Soon breeze too added its melody to the orchestra. In the bargain, it drew my attention to the bel (stone apple) tree growing in a large pot placed at a very conspicuous spot in my rooftop terrace garden. It is called Śivadruma in Sanskrit as its leaves and fruit are used as an offering to Śiva, the primordial, immutable, eternal element presiding over the unfolding and folding up of the entire universe and projection of universal consciousness.
What was so special there at that time? Only a few days ago, I had seen its branches bereft of all the green cover. At that time, I had experienced an overwhelming feeling of dejection. A question as to whether the tree had lost its vitality confronted me. And that morning, it was a yellowed, withered leaf that had floated down the skies from somewhere and got impaled on one of the thorns in a high up branch. Amazing was the word that came to my mind on seeing the leaf and experiencing the song. Which tree had it come from and why? As I scanned the skies for a probable answer, the leaf itself reminded me of my state of mind having seen the bare branches and reminiscing about the missing leaves from the bel tree. I needn’t search for them anymore. Just as its song and the music reached its crescendo, the day too became brighter, and I saw life springing up again from all the branches of my bel tree. Tender green sprouts adorned the once bare branches. Was it the day or the new leaves smiling at me? No, it was the entire creation!
