“My Speaking Tree”

Pradeep Gupta
I lay on my bed looking blankly at the Peepal Tree that stood outside the window of my room in the ‘Vridh Ashram’, the Home for the Aged. The tree had been my companion of two decades and I would speak to it whenever I missed my family and felt lonely. The tree would respond by twirling its leaves as if, waving back at me. It would also beckon all the birds around who would perch on its branches and start chirping in an orchestrated manner to enliven my mood. This would have a sobering effect on me and soon I would fall asleep like a small child in the cradled arms of a mother. I called the tree ‘My Speaking Tree’.
The community type living in the Ashram provided us the solace of each other’s company and emotional security. We were all well looked after . The institution had surfeit of funds as there was no dearth of donors. It is a paradox that the society that discards its elders, readily comes forward to financially support such institutions. Besides the State Government also sanctions old age pension to the residents of such Institutions. The very people who dump their parents in such ‘Homes’ go all they way to Varanasi and Haridawar to perform ‘Asthi Visarjan’ when they are no more. How can a soul rest in peace when it has been tormented in a living being?
Gazing at the Peepal tree that mid-summer day I once again drifted back into the memory lane. We were marginal farmers in a remote village and toiled hard to educate our only son who landed in a big job in a faraway city. After my wife’s death, my son took me away to live in his swanky house in the city. It was absolute joy for me to look after my grand-son, Aryan. I bathed and fed him and escorted him to school. I played with him after school and helped him with his home work In addition, it fell on me to buy groceries and perform other house hold chores. All went on well till my son moved to the company headquarters after receiving a promotion. Aryan was admitted in a boarding school and my son felt that I would be better looked after in an Old Age Home . Consequently, I landed in the Vridh Ashram.
There was no word from my son till twenty years later when he sent a letter saying that he would soon be visiting the Ashram and take me back home. I was very thrilled and shared the news with my speaking tree. My son arrived on the appointed day and disarmed me with a big hug. All my anger and frustration accumulated over the years vanished.
He said that we would first need to go to the court to sign papers for sale of our village land. I informed him of rupees fifty thousand saved by me from my pension. He asked me to hand over the money to him for safe keeping and advised me to be at the railway station by 6.00 pm to catch the 6.30 train. I was too excited to wait and arrived at the station at 5.00 pm itself. The train arrived at 6.15 pm and I frantically looked for my son. But he was nowhere to be seen. The train left at the scheduled time. Tears swelled into my eyes. I slowly walked back to ‘My Speaking Tree’.
(The author is a former Civil Servant)
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