Out from a seed it grows
Vulnerable, unaware of its potential
Nourished by the fallen leaves of its brethren,
and drops of rain..

Shaking and shivering, it starts growing
Aiming to reach for the heavens,
The abode of the nearby star
Whose light it harvests..

All this while, hidden from everyone
A part of it sets out
On a journey of its own
To the depths of earth
Branching, multiplying
Seeking the raindrops
Which had fallen earlier..

Years pass by..
Tender green shoots turn into coarse bark
The dusty road gives way to a metalled one
A weary traveller seeks comfort in its shade
A young bulbul in search of real estate
Takes a liking to the tree
Twigs and dried grass it collects
To build a nest of its own
Chiup.. Chiup.. Chiup..
The hatchlings fill the air
With frantic cries for food

A hollow in the tree
A safe for a little boy
In goes his stash of treasure
Bottle caps of cold drinks,
Empty match boxes and marbles

A bud appears
Turning into flower
From it grows a fruit
Attracting a passing bird
A messenger for its seeds

Years pass by..
The little boy grows into a man
Gone afar in search of money
Forgetting his treasures
In the tree’s hollow
The tree, old and mangled
The hollow pronounced
Now the home of a wise owl

The tree no longer stands
Its detritus now nourishes the earth
From which it was nourished
Giving back whatever it took
During its lifetime

Dead in one place
It grows in hundred others
Seeds dispersed by the messengers

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