Page 109 - Musings 2021

9
The Coconut Tree
Atmesh Mahapatra
2019B4A30560P

You might see me among my brothers and sisters, in Madivala, somewhere in the vicinity of
the vegetable market. If you’re fortunate, you might have had one of my coconuts in the
market. But if you haven’t yet, don't worry, I am here only. I have been here ever since I was
tiny.

Oh, those were the days. Everything was nicer. I was surrounded by my loved ones, and there
were trees everywhere. I was with my brothers, sisters, and parents. People say coconut trees
grow in humid, salty coastal areas. But God works in unique ways, for some of us migrated
to lands far far away from the sea. In the cooler and sweeter climate in a forest. My father,
grandfather, and great grandfather, and great-great-grandfather grew up in the forest. And I
am a descendant of this forested coconut tree family.

The animals around were nicer and more respectful of us, trees. And humans weren’t
distinguished from living beings. At least not in our vicinity. Not to say, they didn’t take the
coconuts, but they were more respectful and took only as much as was needed. There was a
fine man, he even used to worship me before climbing onto me.

As a sapling, I would be protected by the elder trees around me. Their crowd kept me warm
in the cool climate, their leaves slowed down the heavy downpour of the monsoons, and their
height would protect me from the scorching sun. Supporting me was soil, fine, soft, and moist
soil. And there were tiny shrubs and even tinier beings who were supported by the same soil.
As I grew up, my responsibilities grew. Soon, it became my responsibility to protect the
shrubs from the sun, to provide all living beings with coconut, to shed leaves to nourish my
nourisher. It was work, but it was my purpose, my responsibility, and I was happy to do it.

Then, the humans found it hard to cross the forest easily, so they cleared out some of the
smaller plants to make a path to cross the forest. Slowly, human greed grew, and before I
knew it, the Kacha Road had become a road of harder, black material. Several men came and
cut all my brothers and sisters away. And the soft soil has made way for a brick footpath. I
had never faced such a loss in such a short amount of time. But it happened. Gradually, more
trees were cut to widen the road, then even more trees were cut to accommodate giant
concrete structures. Now, there’s a school behind me, a market across the road, and even a
police station. People change, and the place stays the same. The place has changed, I have
stayed here only. I have been here when this land wasn’t a part of the garden city but was
only a mere forest. The change is perhaps for the better. I am only a tree, so I can’t do much
about it even if I don’t like it. I just accept it and move on.

Other than the few other trees, I get a lot of company.

The dogs invaded the neighborhood about ten years ago, and their society has evolved around
us. The partition of territories, the decision of who would be the chief, the quarrels, all
happen around us. During the day, they rest under my shed, and at night they try to maintain
the bustling noise of the daytime traffic, with their quarrels. Occasionally, they would feast on
the garbage thrown at my roots. But, at other times I doubt if they understand my presence.

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