The Tree

Every morning, I wake up and open my door to look out..Dried up trees, dried up grass, a stump of a tree which had been cut, broken bricks and stones lying around greets my eyes. There is a certain tree which I always take care to watch. I try to feel what the tree must be feeling. Its leaves are laden with dust. It bends under its own weight. Its trunk curves like a river flowing amongst the mountains. It made me think of my own life. Was it meaningless, just like the existence of that tree? Was I born to feel like a burden? What was my purpose in this world? Will I ever have any good friend or do I have to stand alone till the days make me wither away into oblivion? Will I be free?

Then I would divert my thoughts and actions into the 'hungama' of my hostel life...my fear only being of hurting my heart even more.

Some days back when I opened the door, I saw another small tree growing beneath the old one. Its leaves were green and shone in the sunlight. I was astonished as to how I had missed seeing that tree for so long. Its leaves fluttered in the wind and spoke of a life that I had always wished to have. It stands tall with its straight trunk..

i thank the old dried dust laden tree and the dried brown grass for making me realize the beauty of the green tree. But for them, i would not have been able to appreciate the difference..

Thus the two trees remain outside my door..teaching me to love, to hope, to learn from my past experiences, to be thankful for the 'today' I have, to be thankful to the person who made me feel life as I should, to live life as I want and to see the beauty in everything.

I can almost sense the smile of the old stump who had seen and felt it all.