Anybody who had the nerve to get him out of his dampened room was dear to him. The leaking walls had given him company for so long, that he forgot how being surrounded by humans felt like. The window in his room was the only bridge, which connected him to the world outside.
Though infested by termites, it offered a tiny view of the bald tree that was once planted by him. Although he never expected the tree to withstand the tides of time. But it did and appeared like a pile of sticks reaching for the clouds up above.
On the arrival of spring, the withered tree bloomed with new life. Varied species of birds would sing songs of ecstasy while, sitting on the over-reaching branches of the tree. Sometimes it would ignite a fight among the two-legged creatures to make their abode in its bosom.
The spring season brought a lot of warmth and free-flowing energy to the abandoned tree. But monsoon and winters gave a sudden shock of reality. What the tree thought of as a never-ending union was more of a short vacation. As the summer season bid farewell, so did the birds and caterpillars. The tree was left alone to feed on misery. Yet it never stopped breathing. Even, a simple, jab of a knife was enough to make the tree realise, the value of its minion existence.
Though isolated, the tree felt good to be alive in a house which could demolish anytime. Each year, the tree grew taller and taller with the changing colours of the leaves.
The birds would perch, build their nest, teach their off-springs how to fly and leave. The circle of life would continue like this. Like the changing seasons, the tree embraced all the emotions hidden inside.
Hence, it never lost its ability to strive since he was constantly learning from every gust of wind and every tiny creature that evoked love and grief in him. The boy looked at the tree and pressed his hand against its bark.
He felt a rush of life in the alien species and admired its thin crusty leaves, gently dancing to appease the moonlit evening. The boy smiled and wondered they’ve been sharing the same place for years and it was today that he got the time to witness its timeless beauty.
In a sombre mood, he bid adieu to the static being and took the flight of steps that lead towards his room. The lanky fellow pulled out a chair for him and thought, when he’ll grow older it is more likely that he’ll connect to the tree than to any of his dear ones, who were special enough to drag him out of the living dungeon, “his house”.
Let thy spirit be high in love. Namaste