My Reflections: THE TREE

THE TREE

¼^isM+¥ yhyk/kj txwM+h English translation by GPBahuguna½

The rivers are not natives anywhere.

There is no harsher and sharper weapon than water,

Yet it survived through terrible flood,

Stood immersed in waters up to armpits.

Snatching away from jaws of past destiny

It is nursing broken arms once again

over this plain ground up to that corner

Where the slope goes down towards left into darkness.

I must rise from my chair to meet this Tree.

It has difficult to match time

Following routine of the people living around

Because time of my movement is already past

and the points of departure are many.

I must not miss to see this tree anyway,

It took roots there where it grew up.

It leaped high and spread its wings there only,

It saw the light there only

And affected the air up to far ends

It never fought against itself.

Returning home from market errands in the evening

With my changed face,

I stop to relax or find my comfort sitting on the

body parts twisted by its ancestors.

Gives feeling of sitting on the skinned body of a man,

Who had died in leaning posture?

Resting elbows on its arms, I feel

whether I was not putting strain on the knees of workman,

So I must rise up .

Brooding over my end near and fighting my humility

I rise to free its arms from my burden .

But the death casts shadow a number of objects

which prompts me to save my woolen coat

My shoulders look awkward without its pads.

It gives shape to the rock heads for growth

It wears its skin as coat.

when I meet it I must not forget to realize

half of my person is hung upon its peg in my living room.

Bet

A piece of leather skin serves link always

Whereas it stands wholly rooted in the very soil.

I must myself familiar with this tree

Besides heating water for cure in my body vessels.

A full time span entered its organism one or other ways

in the form of jungle

When I go to meet this tree I must not forget

This city is due to half contribution by its ancestors.

Without knowing limitations it is trying to cover up whole earth by itself.

Along with its roots some more roots from outside

got it entangled underneath.

I must find out how it is moving with them

How green are its experiences in the universal darkness above surface.

Devouring waste land in darkness

it is defending entire slopes from erosion fighting

seasons,

Facing treatment of neighbors on stems

But breathing kindness under its rough skin

It stands naked to struggle on its will and face war .

Helping to manage body like factory.

It holds its arms erect like gun

It has filed its roots like soldiers

And pitched camp against the mood of earth.

Gaining height by the depth of roots underneath

The leaves are not sermons but its vibrant words

Drawn out from the core of its darkness.

(Their tone and content is not news)

Before going through fatigues of journey,

It will take bath in snow

For it was born by itself as individual,

And not grew up as mere symbol of its kind.

To fight battle it is keeping an eye on weather

Preparing its gorilla world underground

By shaking off leaves of anguish and experience.

There are buds of tender hope in its eyes

Which will rise with all gaiety of childhood

To drink away the light, air and water of sky

in one sip of milk.

It is trying to create surprise within one week

by bringing a riot in life.