Silent kid, wondering her spare time off in the small garden around my house… humming and talking to the trees and plants……they were real people to me, alive and with personalities like you and me…..
The Gulmohar who spread his kind, fatherly shadow over half the garden…..
Tiny seasonal flower tots who suddenly used to burst out of ground as monsoons hit the continent….
Aged soft trunk of lady banana….
And tricky, thorny thicket of lemon tree….
Tall coconut trees in the front yard that stood like a grave sentries….
And motherly Parijataka who cradled bulbul nests on her branches…
There was a scarecrow my cousin had installed in the back garden….and he had ensured it scared not just the crows but his tiny dreamy sister too….
I avoided the backyard as stubbornly as the morning cup of milk….because did you know that the scarecrow was actually a monster who could grab me if I went alone in the backyard….?!
But the rest of the garden was happy and cheerful as a daily soap family! With grandpa trees and baby bushes all around the place!
Things from my mothers kitchen often found refuge in garden…..after all trees too need spoons and plates! Don’t they?!
I ate, slept and smiled amongst the shade of those trees….in silent neighborhood of suburban Pune….it was a peaceful childhood….unaware of the world of humans….
Now that house and garden do not exist. Like all adjacent plots, a multi-storey residential building has sprung up there now….
But…the garden lives in me…. Part of me belongs to the dream of garden…still smiling and humming to the trees. No doubt they can still understand my baby talk….