The (not so) Solace Tree

For a long time It thought It Faced it; It thought perhaps It was Brave to do that,

not aware that It Buried it; not aware it was not the Past that was Buried.

But the Seed that was Sowed and now that has Grown into a huge Tree;

Oh have the root taken into a harder form?

The Charm of Fantasizing is similar to teleportation; concealing the temporal and spatial plane.

Building the nest with the birds, hiving along the bees, trekking the Mt Kilimanjaro, rafting against the water, cycling through Alps, skiing through Mt Everest.

But the fantasies of Teens were unconsciously Filtered out; whether concealed or buried or perhaps never existed?

The Beautiful intimacy shared with That One; the sweet nothings, the late night pings, silly well thought memos; that rushed in tones of butterfly in depth of the gut;

with an icing of bizarre emotions as well.

Alas! The intimacy did not last for long; left with the drippings from the honeycomb.

The Grief was not about the Split; In fact niether rage nor remorse, but a confusion about Lacking.

Suddenly the Hidden lay Bare on the Ground; the green algae sticking out.

The Past came down Stripping the Muses; fused with a frozen allay.

The one Sowed, now awkwardly blows with the hurricane, but the roots stubbornly holding the earth.     

It believed that it was Reflected Courageously; perhaps eroded to the depth.

Instead unknowingly It took refuge under the tree of Its past hauntings.

The long withering branches; the strings of dried leaves; the trunk bloating out of the bark,

reminded It of Its kinder intimacy that took a brutal turn.

What was a mere childish innocent play with a lark; but its claws turned out to be of the Vulture.

The Grabbing, the innocent thought was part of the Game; like a squealing squirrels jumping around the branches.

but the Fondling and Touching looked like Gambling; like a whirling worms feeding on the leaves.

The roots peeking out, the vain attempt of bark to shield.

It felt the heart cringe; a weird shallow ditch of emotions in Its stomach.

Its breathe almost muffled; eyes welled up in a pool of water; It smelled like toxic.

Desperately holding the mane, It ran away from the monster.

It took sometime to gather Its pieces to figure out that encounter.

After ages It realized It is still holding the pieces together; in fact now the roots prop in support of the tree’s base.

Finally It caught Hold of the Root; whether firm or lose.

It have stopped Watering it anymore; Stripped it off, as happens in the autumns.

It took a Step Away from the Tree; surprisingly the Root began to Lose its Ground.

Well, at this moment it looks hazy long miles, may be a mirage.

But It carries hope to Rise from the Ashes; to Avenge the Brutal Wishes.

It sees the Wings of Fire flies bare; such sights are often rare.

Oo! the Solace Tree; the turf now swell free.

The Heart, hushed a joyous leap; pausing for fruits to reap;

flowers to bloom; fairies to loom.

Mithiya

Mithiya while lying in the bed, he smelled his whole house with those beautiful memories. For last eighty years, he is living in the same house, earlier with his parents, grandparents, cousins and later with his wife and an old aunt and now it is just Mithiya living in the house. In fact, today, either the old neighbors have left or most of them have passed away. His family technically withered away like the leaves during the autumn and by winter burned in the bonfire, their reminisces trailing away in smoke, however, by the time of spring it grew back with memories hanging like fresh new flowers and leaves from the tree. They left their marks and footprints for all seasons in all time and space for Mithiya. He could smell the pillow, mattress, curtains, furniture and every nook and corner of the house of memories with all the members of his life. He has always been a homely body like his father. His father loved to sow a seed, nurture it and see it grow all his life. He was proud of his family home, which he built it up along with a backyard with a kitchen garden, where he used to grow vegetables and fruits, and till date Mithiya maintains it. His mother was a free soul who could not bind herself to one place for a long time. Although for some time, she did for her family. His father knew about this, in awe of his mother’s free spirit he often took her for short and long trips and later in life, his father fulfilled his mother's wish to live by the sea where she could hear the waves crashing on the stones, feel the piercing breeze, smell the sultry salty sand of the beach. And his father was happy holding his mother’s hand while walking alongside the beach. Mithiya carried his mother’s free spirit as told by his wife, in a sense of holding and giving as much space to everyone in heart and home. The day before he thought of this girl as his partner in crime, she commented, “you are just like your mother, an independent, free soul”, he was surprised, thinking, “She doesn’t know me at all”. His wife was this hippy as he used to call her; she did her studies and internship from different countries as well as continents. He loved to hear all the different stories and perspectives from her. “What you don’t agree”, she asked. “This is the first time someone said, otherwise I agree with people who often say that I am more like my father, as I am more bound to home rather than get up and look for another space”. He still smiled thinking of that day, she laughed saying, “You silly, why an independent free soul cannot stay all their life in one place? For me, an independent, free soul is someone who has a huge space in one’s heart and mind”. For the first time, he learned to see the other side, perspective and what followed next was the girl becoming his girlfriend forever.

“Thud”, he heard the noise of the garbage van pull up, he thought now it is time to wake up! The garbage van has been his alarm clock for almost last fifty years. He is so used to his neighborhood that he does not need a clock to look at the time. The sound of neighborhood’s daily activities helped to manifest his own daily chores. While brushing his teeth, he smiled thinking, “Come on, Mithiya, this eavesdropping”, his wife would say. “Tring”, Mithiya went out to collect the newspaper, he can hear the young boy’s cycle from next lane “Good morning Mr.Mithiya, as always on time”, the boy flipped the newspaper while cycling. “Careful”, Mithiya told the boy, “yes Mr.Mithiya, as always”, he waved back. He checked his post box, as he forgot to check for last two days. He found two letters from Tang in China and Orisis from Dublin, “here our children write again” he thought with a huge smile. He prepared the coffee and one toast to go with reading the letters and newspaper. Earlier he used to have cake too, his wife loved this little morning session with him. He would lovingly prepare the coffee and a toast. He has always been the first one wake up before his wife. Even during his childhood days, he used to wake up before his parents. He would go out to their backyard garden and pluck the flowers and some fruits. He would then neatly arrange flowers in the vase for his mother; fruits freshly washed and laid down in the basket. Then he would rush to get ready for school and came down smelling the fresh brewed coffee and breakfast and the cake prepared by his mother. He loved sharing his cake with his imaginary friend that his mother too respected, who suddenly disappeared in his backyard garden while Mithiya waved to his friend. Perhaps, a childhood illusions he thought. “You have to stop taking the cake Mithiya, you know your sugar level, don’t you?”, his wife used to tell him. Sometimes he promised to take half and most of the time his wife used to snatch away from him. “You should not have learned baking cake from your mom and Milton too spoiled you”, she would say. Today, he stopped having cake, as there was none to remind him about his health. Thinking about those days, he wondered maybe he loved his wife lovingly chided for the cake, he loved hearing the concerned voice of her. His breakfast and newspaper sessions used to be a great start for the day. They both could hold the conversation about every issue in the newspaper for hours. Every time he loved listening to some passionate views and arguments of his wife on some of the issues. Once he remembered, there was an opinion piece, which did a sting operation sort of a thing, about how many libraries a locality has which had a large number of people turning up for a library, but very less issuing of books. One of the reasons they see is that most people end up watching movies on their laptops, instead of reading books and some plan to meet their friends in the library. It did some calculation and laid out that only about thirty to thirty-five percent people used the library. The piece questioned the need for funds for the public library for every locality. “Oh, well”, his wife, commented, “And how can they say they are only watching movies, it could be documentaries and those people might be discussing books, movies, and so many other stuff. “Of course, it is the State’s responsibility to provide a place like a library even if it is to cater only ten percent of people. Those ten percent may inspire the rest of the ninety percent in some way”.

“Come on, come on”, snapped from his daydreaming, he heard the distinct voice of parents and grandparents rushing the children to the school, his next alarm for, “Ah, walk time”! He took his hat gifted to him by his wife’s parents for his promotion in office. Taking his walking stick, he went out to stroll. “Good morning Mr.Mithiya, the bread loaf is ready”, his usual bakery shop boy Milton waved. “Also your children from India, Vietnam, and Cambodia have emailed you. I have taken the printouts of the letter”. “Wonderful! Thanks, dear” Mithiya replied. Sweet boy, he remembered Milton as a young guy, who hated studying. He was adopted by his friend, the owner of the once small Bakery store, but loved spending time in experimenting with new recipes to bake cakes and bread. His friend wanted him to study and get himself a job. Once such a bad argument ensued between the two that the young boy left the house. Once Mithiya and his wife got to know, they looked for him along with his friend. After three days, around 11:30 pm, the boy knocked on Mithiya’s door. His wife rushed to prepare dinner for him first and next morning both of them sat down to speak to him. There seem to be some study course in a bakery, which he wanted to join and his father did not allow him. His wife took the initiative to loan him money for the course and both of them let him live in a small room in their backyard, of course after speaking to his father. His father refused to let him stay with him. During his free time, he helped Mithiya’s family with cleaning the backyard and gardening. And, when Mithiya’s parents visited him, he would come around help them with driving to a nearby place. Sometimes he would quietly sneak a slice of cake to Mithiya, a little secret that they shared. Soon Milton moved out, opened his small bakery store just like his father, and soon it became the talk of the town for his excellent savory of bakery stuff. People later talked about how it is because of Mithiya’s family that Milton could do well. However, for his family it was no big deal, they believe it is our duty to be there for each other, to open up once heart. That is what he saw his parents doing for people who were in genuine need and that’s what Milton did for a young girl who needed financial support for education. He felt this chain reaction when someone is been helped. That time, the couple decided not have children of their own. His wife who had been to many parts of the world suggested him about sponsoring children in different countries for their education or for some start up job. They both decided to sponsor as many children as they want from all over the world. All those children until date have been in touch with Mithiya. Few of them came to attend the funeral services of Mithiya’s wife. He remembered his wife’s funeral services were, in fact, a joyous one. While walking he remembered the number of letters which came by from other children who had written a heartfelt gratitude and that they were there for him.

Aah! Autumn time as he saw the clear sky, flowers, and leaves lazily hanging, standing on the edge of a lake. Nature as if waking up, stretching every limb of its body, idly splashing yellow and orange hue at the sky, Mithiya always smelled the certain kind of freshness of newness during autumn. Some may feel the ushering in of rigid cold sheet of the season in coming months, but for Mithiya it is as if the earth and sun made a pact to tilt on its axis to let the South Pole get some sun. That is what his parents told the children in the family when his cousins used to visit their place long time back. Mithiya and his cousins did not prefer the cold winter, whenever autumn arrived it reminded of the wintertime. “Uncle, autumns, and winters are so depressing time, look those trees, stripped of their leaves”, the sun is so late in rising, and this is so depressing. Then Mithiya’s parents explained about the sun and the earth’s pact. Mithiya almost had a smile; he could almost see and hear such age-old conversation. “Horn, Horn” almost made him jump, the dairy van was here for the supply in the nearby grocery store and his alarm clock to get back home.  He reminded himself to save up some woods he may need during the winters. He went back home, not forgetting to buy his freshly baked bread by Milton. After showering he got back to his routine of cleaning his backyard, checking on the fruits and vegetables, checking on the bird’s water pot and finally sat down in his small library space to go through books. He heard a sound of a creek, “Aah, it must be 1 pm, seems like Mrs.M, has opened her windows shutter for sunlight and thus my lunchtime”, yes this was his another alarm clock which called for his lunch. Mithiya just loved this synchrony. He would always say, ‘I am in verse with the Universe, in rhyme with Mundanity”, he found such a solace with nature as well as human nature’s prose with daily life. He was at a stage of life, where he was wholly content and happy. Although most of the neighbor thought that, he was a lonely man who always seemed to smile without reason. Some commented, “What a sad life to live alone”. Mrs.M thought, “poor guy, I have seen him growing up, they decided not have children which we advised him was a wrong decision, all his family died, now look at him living all alone”. Except for Milton, no one really knew Mithiya or his family. Milton and his family would visit him some time for lunch or dinner. “Creek”, Mrs.M must have closed the window and yes it was 7 pm, dinner time. Milton with his family visited him that night for dinner. Pasta with meatball, Milton’s children jumped on Mithiya, screaming joyously about their favorite dish for dinner. “Mrs.Mithiya (M) taught me this dish, remember uncle Mithiya,” said Sarah, Milton’s wife. They all had a hearty laugh while the two children animatedly talked about their lessons in the school. Milton asked, “Don’t you miss, Mrs.M uncle Mithiya, why don’t you come and live with us for some time? For which Mithiya just smiled. Milton continued, “Well, the other Mrs.M seems to worry about you for being lonely”, Mithiya replied, “Really?” Sara replied, “Well what does she know that uncle Mithiya’s lunch and dinner depends on her opening of the window, they all laughed after few seconds of silence. “Yes, I do miss my wife and family, but I remember all of them and all the moments with so much of happiness. I see all of them through your love and affection and through the letters/emails sent by other children. Just imagine how many of you remember us each day. I consider myself so fortunate”. Milton and Sarah smiled, “that’s true uncle Mithiya”. Sarah continued, “We live in a strange world, you know. Our neighborhood thinks you are the loneliest man here, but one can feel lonely even with ten people around”. That night Mithiya looked outside his huge French style window that his wife designed it, for the view of the sky, especially at the night. He imagined each star as his family members and thanked each of them for leading him to live such a purposeful life. The moon, which initially seemed to be hiding away in clouds, as if in agreement waved to him riding in the clouds.

“Thud”, Mithiya heard the garbage van, his alarm clock to wake up. He felt his heart to be light and uplifted with such peace that he failed to describe it in words. He felt like a long dream, he thought that last night he felt strange, he saw the full moon beaming luminous light after a hide and seek with the clouds; the stars too came too close. The curtain seemed to be drawn over the French style windows. He got up to brushed his teeth and smelled the freshly brewed coffee, toast, and cake. It smelled so similar to his mother’s cake, “Ah, Milton must be here, can’t believe he has become so good with baking cake” he smiled. Sometime Milton would come over to his place early in the morning to help Mithiya prepare breakfast. As he strides towards the kitchen, he got a shock when a strange little boy jumped, “mom, my friend has finally woke up, pls give him your delicious cake”. The mother replied, “Yes dear, this is for your imaginary friend”. Mithiya wondered about these strange people in his house. “My house? Everything looks different here, he saw two more people in his living room. He was so confused and worried more, as no one seems to notice him. The doorbell rang, the man in the house opened the door, and Mithiya followed him. “Here are some letters for Mr.Mithiya, Milton. People from all around the world have written for him. He seemed to be a good human being that we missed to meet him”. Milton replied with a smile, “Yes, he and his family took care of everyone”, Milton continued, “With your permission can I plant this small plant in the backyard garden, Mr.Mithiya wanted this plant in his garden”. The man replied, “Of course, do come in and don’t you worry we will take care of the garden very well. We will maintain exactly how Mr.Mithiya maintained it”. “The backyard garden” Mithiya remembered, he rushed, only to relieve to see all his vegetable, fruits, tree plantation intact. He sat down near the tree, which looked in the direction of his dining space window. He saw the little boy happily waving at him. “Indeed, you seem to have led a meaningful life”, he heard his wife and mom saying together, standing behind him. That moment Mithiya realized, after all, the imaginary friend was real indeed. He waved back at the little boy, giving him a flying kiss and turned back to his mom and wife.