The Mango Tree

The locality in which we live is profuse with trees but the tree living nearest to us happens to be an adult mango tree. Had I been shown only its trunk, hiding the remaining parts, I would never have believed that this trunk proportionate to a healthy man’s chest could sprout such a big canopy with such harvest of mangoes.

This one legged living being stands quite straight, donned in a green turban made of thousands of leaves. The spread of roots over the earth is enough to show how wide they must be running under it. When two days ago it rained for several hours, it soaked up immense amounts of water and changed its color from wood to chocolate.

The mango tree and I do not know much about each other. My family shifted here barely a year ago, and though the two of us grew close, we have never talked to each other about our pasts. Hence I can’t say when this giant on earth was planted, who planted it, and what other memories it hides in its bark. Nor have I ever told it when, where and how I was born and what a fantastic childhood I was fortunate to have.

Despite this, it seems, the tree and I understand each other totally well. When I am a bit off, the tree shows something miraculous, creates some rare scene, and it gives me inspiration for a poem. A successful writeup is usually enough to lift your spirits, isn't it? What do I do in return? I mention the mango in the poem, not because otherwise it would be copyright infringement, but because the writeup seems rather empty without it. The mango has not so far protested, and I have faith it won’t ever in the future.

Sometimes in the morning and sometimes in the evening I am on the rooftop where its branches reach, and I can see armies of ants patrolling its leaves and branches. Upon a careful gaze, I find that all of its leaves are not healthy. Nearly every leaf in my eyeshot is scarred by ants and other leaf-eaters. There are openings in these leaves which are not stomata. But the Mango doesn’t gripe. It has serenely welcomed and accepted all the creatures that approach it for livelihood. Which is why today it supports thousands of ants, innumerable rainy-season insects, pandemoniums of parrots, and a plethora of crows and sparrows and pigeons.

It seems to me that despite not having gone to school, the mango tree is a lot wiser than us. It has such a kind and benevolent nature, never brags about it, and what is more, always tries to enjoy life. Seems it knows the meaning of life more than our preachers do. It is not afraid of getting wet in rain as we humans are, and not any bit frightened of storm. It takes delight in everything, and this physics its pain.

Merely looking at the tree is enough to get you serious about the understanding of life and meaning. One look at it can give you an unparalleled spiritual experience. Being a creation of Creator, the mango tree behaves to some extent like the Creator Himself.

And, at any rate, I can’t wonder more on the fact that this three-floor high mango tree started growing someday from a seed hardly the size of my palm!