Dr Namita Bhat
Well, the title remains very confusing but at the same time interesting too. It always takes me back to my childhood days when the life was fun and joy only. I still have the vibrant memory of that huge tree within the premises of my grandparents’ house, which used to have pink flowers during springs.
Whenever my grandfather used to tell me about that tree, he used to refer it as rose tree, so my thought of rose was never a plant but a tree. The tree was so captivating, and had an enigma attached to it. For me it was incredibly special because its flowers were used to be plucked for having pooja on my birthday. The baby pink-colored flowers with elongated petals just adored the plate in which they were placed. Adding to its beauty was a small stream flowing just by its side. The cool breeze would blow the light pink flowers and throw them right in the stream. Some of the flowers used to float slowly in the crystal-clear waters of the stream and some would just be scattered on the ground. I would always be so glad to pick the flowers from the ground and adore its beauty, smell it, see through it and just stare it to frame an image of rose in my mind.
In the evening sometimes some kids used to climb its long, dry and old branches and just jiggle it to make the flowers fall to the ground. We being the younger lot used to enjoy it even more by just waiting the flowers to fall on us.The tree was long enough to be seen from the second and even third floor of the house. So, by the evening time when I used to comeback home after a day of play, I would just sit by the window and try to catch its branches. I would sit by the window side while by grandmother would serve me the apricot pickle to taste. I still yearn to have that pickle sitting by that window.
The tree would also change its grace and beauty as the seasons progressed. Come autumn it would just be left naked and woody, and in winters it would cover itself with snow. Every winter morning when the chill used to veil the valley, I would look from the window and miss my rose flowers. Even then the snow-covered branches leaning to the ground looked stunning. It seemed as if the branches were calling the kids to come out and play with them.
On certain occasions when the days would be sunny elders would let us to play outside for some time. My only intention at that time would be to check its strength. Ifeared that my favorite rose tree might have lost its might due to the frosty weather. I used to jump and try to catch one of the twigs which would break at once making me sad and anxious. I would fear that my rose tree might not survive the harsh weather. I would ask my grandfatherabout the fate of the tree to which he would reply that nothing can happen to this tree as its Gods tree. This would make me extremely happy and relieved.
My eternal tree would never die and would always spread its fragrance and delight everywhere. Time has passed but that rose tree is still fresh in my mind and memory. I still wish to see my rose tree, touch its branches and feel the same happiness as I used to feel……..
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