write an autobiography of a banyan tree in 2000 words
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AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BANYAN TREE
I am a banyan tree. I am an Indian fruit tree. I have grown at remote corner of the town with utter negligence and indifference. I am unable to move about, but able to think .I do not know how to make one understand my thoughts, but I know other’s language . I have no way of expression, but I have my own words .I do not possess any grudge, but I have feelings .Do you not feel my sensation when my branches dance with joy ?I have a lot of words, a lot of thinking .I say these to myself .If you want to listen to my words please wait a bit beside me .
Well, I can’t remember how many many years ago I was born . when I came to my senses I raised my head over the ground .Once I got afraid but again I was full of rejoice .I was afraid , lest somebody might destroy me .Glad, because I could gain new experience day after day . Light of dawn is unmixed joy , gentle breeze is as if , heart – felt love and affection of the earth and dew –drop or the patter of rain is nothing but God’s grace to me .
Days passed by and I grew younger. How towering is my hope, my dream! One day I would grow older just like the ancient banyan tree standing a little distance from me. South wind gives me a lot of information of his weal and woe. The older tree makes me careful about many untoward incidents. At times I got nervous. Whenever I saw a gang of naughty boys or a herd of cows or buffaloes I thought I had no other way but to be rooted out. One day I had saved myself due to good luck. A road was being constructed just beside me. One labourer was rushing towards me to root out. I was then trembling with fear. At that time a kind-hearted fellow cried out, ‘Don’t do it. It would give shadow and oxygen to the environment’. God saved me that time. I sent the message to the ancient tree by the eastern wind, ‘I am alive’. The ancient tree, my uncle, said. ‘I am highly pleased. Now grow up quickly with heart’s joy’.
Really I grew older one day. I became taller than any other tree. Only a few coconut trees laughed at me saying,’ Oh, majestic tree! you are shorter than we . Will you cover the sky expanding your kingdom of branches?’ Being angry I answered ,’I have become King and I have to expand my kingdom .’ It is a fact my kingdom of branches is going to increase day by day. New branches came down to the ground and formed new roots. Some of them caught hold of the ground but a few began to hang over like mythological kings .I am very pleased with them as they add to my energy and vitality .
I had to suffer much with those low lying branches. I know that life is a mixture of smile and mortification. A few poor people cut down a few low- lying branches and bunches of roots. I suffered much pain that day. Blood dropped down from my affected limbs. I trembled with severe pain. At dead of night an owl informed me that the ancient tree, my uncle, had been crying throughout the night. I also feel sorry for my uncle. Worms and insects have made their hiding places in my uncle’s frail body just as old men and women suffer from various diseases .
At present I am full of vigour , vitality ,energy and life- force. I don’t care for worms and insects. To tell you frankly I am now friendly with all. So many people take shelter or shade under my branches. A few say ‘Oh, how pleasant it is !` I am also happy to serve them . They speak of their sorrows, sufferings or their want. I feel pity for them. I try my best to make them asleep by my song so that they can forget ‘thousand frets and fevers of life`. The rich people generally do not sit in my shade. If they do they are only busy with their loss or profit. Sometimes again I meet thieves or terrorists who whisper to commit theft at night. Besides monks, saints , philosophers, or stoical fellows come to me with divine thinking. I think myself fortunate and blessed to meet such persons.
But now I am living with birds, beasts and animals as their parent. Just at twilight flock of birds like Indian Nightingale, Magpie Robin, Drongo, wood -pecker, Tailor bird etc. take shelter on my branches. The cries of the birds take me to a land of Utopia. Truly speaking they tell their joys and sorrows in their own way of expression. They are my friends in my weal and woe. I take care of their young ones when they are out for food.
But I have also my sorrows. Many people do not care for me. They pass by without paying a glance at me. Perhaps I may be fallen down one day by those people who are greedy and cruel. But I am like you. I laugh when I am happy, I cry when I feel sorrow. Memories of joy and woe are in my nerves. I am proceeding through ages. I do not know how many years I have to witness the game of ‘ hide and seek` of the vast universe.
I am a banyan tree. My abode is a small town. It’s developing fast. I am just twenty. You may term me youth. These days’ banyan trees hardly survive for seventy to eighty years. I am telling about the life-span for my variety. We have three types based on place of growing, viz. rural, suburban and metropolitan.
The rural banyan trees are also termed as classical type. They are on the verge of extinction. Their average life-span is four-hundred years. In the countryside, assemblage for market, meeting, musical orchestra, drama, etc. takes place beneath their shadow. You will find their reference in the classics of prolific story-tellers Bankim Chandra, Tarashankar, Prabhatkumar, Sarat Chandra and the like.
I belong to town category. Before I narrate my bringing up, let me add a few words on our life struggle. We live in small town or suburban. Our births generally take place in disputed places. It may be due to human touch or natural reasons. Thus, very often you will find germination of our seeds at places like the cracks of old buildings, decomposed portion or holes in trees, heaps of garbage, etc. It’s needless to mention that we face turbulent and uncertain periods in our childhood. Sometimes, people become ruthless upon us. They don’t hesitate to uproot. Beheading is a common onslaught.
Especially, it’s unleashed upon us with fanfare on the eve of Durga Puja. Thus, it’s difficult for us to grow by the side of streets in the town. There is no scope for extending roots underneath as well. The workers of Drinking Water Supply Department do not hesitate to cut our roots on the plea of laying pipes.
The onslaughts from other departments like PWD, BSNL, TNGC, etc just add insult to the injuries. Sometimes, activists styled as environmentalists do cry for our save. But, it’s showy; they are biased towards metropolitan sect.