FREE VERSE
The Village Banyan Tree
Those shady afternoons

That broken wall on the boundary of our village home, and just there silently spreading, watching over us, was this grand old banyan tree.
When everyone enjoyed their noon siesta, I was bored, my soul wished for a friend to talk to, and my feet took me down the muddy steps of the verandah, crossing the garden filled with unknown flowers and unwanted bushes, right in front of this huge structure, shadowing over me.
Yes, it did frighten me, this certain stillness, the sound of crickets, surrounding it, still, I went near it, the hot afternoon sun veiled behind, winking through those huge layers of leaves and aerial roots, and they all seemed to welcome me in their arms, just like grandfather did, and I didn’t mind.
A sense of calmness, a slow balmy feeling engulfed me, as I sat with my head on the giant bark, waiting for that sudden gush of air to caress the leaves, and they would start talking to me, stories hundreds of years old, ready to open up right in front of me.
This is a story I heard from my father, about a giant tree where they used to spend most of their time when they were kids. There was no electricity, in that long-lost village, whose name still sparks his eyes up.





