Spice of life: Trees and childhood, fostering friendships and fraternity

Evenings during these sultry summers are surprisingly pleasant. Thunderstorms triggered by weather disturbances have washed away the heat of noon.

On one such evening, as I sat in my front courtyard enjoying the gentle breeze, I saw a group of children climbing a mango tree in the neighbourhood. First they tried to get some raw mangoes by tugging the lowest branch, but the stout branch refused to yield. Then they hopped the boundary wall as the neighbours seemed to be away. Soon I could see a number of them perched on the mango tree with their legs dangling, relishing ripe mangoes, their hands full with sweet pulp. They threw some mangoes to the pleading children standing underneath.

Mango tree and children became reminiscent of golden childhood memories of friendly ties and togetherness. We had a sprawling home with thick foliage in New Officers Colony in Ambala City. Our home and other houses in the lane had a variety of fruit trees like guava, jamun, shahtoot etc. and we often climbed atop after sneaking out of the homes in the afternoon when elders indulged in siesta.

Cousins, friends were all partners in crime. I recall with nostalgia those giggles, guffaws and shenanigans sublime. The aroma of guava leaves, the joy of sitting among the groves of entangled branches gave us joy unlimited.

While climbing these fruit trees, we would compete and hop like monkeys to reach the top branch first. In playfulness we never bothered about the bruised legs, itchy ankles and elbows or soiled clothes. Like squirrels we jumped from one twig to another, collecting the raw guavas in the flare of our frocks and pockets of trousers.

We swung on the branches as a gentle breeze cradled them like an affectionate mother. Purple stains of jamun seen by mothers led to scolding, but we never cared for those stains. It was like “yeh daag acche hai” as they spoke of many memorable tales and triumphs. The golden delicious mangoes, the delectable fresh guavas seemed to invite us — come nestle, munch and cheer.

The trees gave a feeling of fraternity and friendship. We sat under them,played a game of “stapu” under their shadow, addressed them as mango uncle and guava aunty and requested these silent spectators to resolve our petty fights. We used to say if guava branch budged before the mango to break ties between the girl and boy gangs.

The massive trees were home to many birds. We conversed with chirping creatures, squealing squirrels who seemed to banter with naughty children like us for peeping into their homes. We witnessed mother sparrows caring for their fledglings, feeding them, teaching them to fly and hop. We climbed the tree everyday to see how baby pigeons were progressing and how they slept peacefully on dry straw diligently brought by their mother.

Now the trees are a rare find in cities. The perspectives are different and foothold too yet I climb the tree of life with dare, determination and delight, learning many lessons from each scene, sound and sight. I cherish the ascent, treasure every buzz of bees, summer’s serene songs days. Spring’s cheerful hues, pitter patter of raindrops, winter’s warmth and wellness and look forward to autumnal shades of life.

In this climb, many new faces join and many old faces leave. The tree’s cycle of life continues. Every step is a reflection leading to enlightening moments. I believe we humans should be like these trees, which have roots in the soil yet reach to the skies — unpruned, pious and perseverant.

ritukumar.gmn@gmail.com

(The writer is the principal at MLN College, Yamunanagar.)