One of my two best friends whom I lost in 1993

Before I could recover the trauma of losing my best friend, I lost another in 1993. Loss of the earlier had brought me closer to the later.

It was the drumstick tree, standing in our courtyard, bent a bit towards the south. Everyday after coming back from school, I used to stand leaning to it. The school children used to nail its trunk with thorns so that some gum would sprout from it, which they would use in pasting paper. Everyday I found multiple thorns in its trunk. I used to remove the thorns and clean its trunk. Abusing children who came near the tree to collect gum had become a part and partial of my daily life.

The murder of my best friend was cold blooded. It was taken care of that the tree would never grow again. I still remember that black day in my life. I was standing at a corner, crying. A laborer was cutting the branches. People standing below were collecting each and every piece of the tree. Perhaps this is the only tree having everything starting from its leaves, fruits to its flowers edible. After all the branches, it was the turn of the trunk. The man was cutting the trunk with a rip saw in front of my eyes. I was feeling as if he was piercing my heart.

While observing the cutting program, I remembered how we used to collect the flowers that used to fall on the floor every morning. My first sister and I used to accumulate the flowers and give it to mother who then used to prepare cake out of it. It was all fun. The cakes were damn tasty. My sister and I used to fight over the king’s size. After eating the cake, we always went to the tree to thank it for the same, hoping for a similar cake the next day. Everyone was enjoying the cutting process and nobody bothered to see the tears that were coming out from both of my eyes like two perennial rivers. After few minutes, the trunk fell down. I ran towards.. don’t know where.. aimlessly, as if the spirit left the body and I was running to catch it.

After coming back, I found no sign of the tree. I knelt down on the spot to feel the absence of my best friend. One day passed, two days passed, on the fourth or the fifth day, the tree again grew up. It was visible. People found it as an obstruction on their way. A plan was made to uproot it. But it was deep rooted, hence considered quite difficult for each and every piece to be unearthed. My father came out with a plan. Five kilos of salt solved the problem. The entire hole created by the partial uprooting of the tree was filled with salt. I had a last glance of my best friend that day.

Since that day until now, I still feel my best friend tried everything to come to the earth to meet me. Alas! I couldn’t do anything to save it.