I remember in my school days I was particularly fond of a tree.
A Banyan tree,
standing in a corner of the field.
It was huge
like a green cloud,
like a constant of a rusty time.
I smoked my first cigarette under the tree,
I kept looking through the pores of its branches to the running clouds,
and I first thought about getting lost being in the shadow of this untamed life.
One day a storm came,
a lightning struck
and it was the next morning that I found the tree to be cracked to the core.
I remember a small, unprotected corner of my school was fenced with the woods of my friend.
With age men want all the attention on them
and force themselves to forget the memories which they had to live.
I also did,
in a wild search to find a false security,
untill today.
I saw the tree again,
dressed in summer green,
its red fruits were scattered all around
and a bunch of crows were knocking those with their beaks.
The endings, the deaths, the unrequited promises
all these are as much real as we find each day in a hope towards the flow.
I woke up after that and went to the window.

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Rana P.B.Sing.