Plu
One morning, I stood at my window gawking silently and despondently at a woodcutter cutting a tree. It was shedding tears and all the creatures residing in it were screeching stridently while the woodcutter turned them a deaf year. I could understand them due to a special ability. Trees have always been my true blue comrades. 9 years down the line when we lived in Nainital, I was very young when I grew my first tree. Our house was encompassed with towering and robust trees all of which were planted by my ancestors. I was eager to grow a tree as I had always felt a strong connection with them. They were the most selfless organisms on the whole of earth. The first tree I grew was a plum tree. I gave it the name Plu. Everyday, I would enthusiastically water her and take care of her. Soon she grew into the most bewitching tree in the garden. Magnificent rosy pink flowers adorned her. Her plumous petals and emerald green leaves fascinated me. I grew up extremely attached to her.
Whenever I was distraught I would sit under its cool shade. The cool air and the supply of oxygen around me would instantly calm me down. I had soon developed a deep bond of friendship with the animals, birds and insects residing in Plu. The birds sang in their dulcet voice which would effectively mollify me in distressing situations. Plu liberated a mesmerising aroma that soothed all of my senses. When I felt hungry, she would drop a plum into my lap as though she understood me. The plums were saccharine and scrumptious. Plu would whisper into my ear by rustling her leaves and we would chat away for long hours. I would sit on the plumous grass under Plu’s cool shade to write a nice fictional story. She often cleared my mind and soon ideas would sprout into my mind. Who said that trees do not have feelings? You need to care for them and love them and they will reciprocate your love. Then 3 years ago, we left Nainital for Mumbai.
I embraced Plu’s wide trunk as briny tears flushed down my cheeks. I miss Plu as she was more than a tree to me but a very valuable friend. There are hardly any trees in Mumbai here. This makes me very despondent. Hence, I often grow trees near my house which reminds me of my life in my hometown and Plu. Looking at a tree getting cut overwhelmed with melancholy. I explained to the woodcutter, “Trees are the lungs of the world. So if we cut them down we do not get to breathe.” Many people knew the consequences of cutting trees but never bothered to take any action. He finally realised his mistake and sauntered away in silence with his head bowed in shame.
