I have not visited my ancestral house at Agra for many years. The reasons varied for many, perhaps I am very busy or I do not love those trees as much as I used to be once.
Once when I was a small kid and my best sport was to hang around the trees in our old house, to climb upon the branches, lying on a cot under the shades of those trees. I would sometime feel that there is nothing beautiful in this world then a full grown tree, its branches, its flowers, shades, leaves and fruits. The house was surrounded by a garden having many grown up, tall, short, and Infant trees of Neem, Mango, date and other many varieties.
I was not allowed to visit Agra very frequently as my parents thought that I would be spoiled up if spend more time there. I would go to Agra only in summer vacations only when schools remained closed. When I reach the house my first priority would be to climb upon the trees. Sometime it seemed that trees too wait me, and open up their branches like the arms to greet me. My favorite one was the Neem tree in the corner of garden. It was so big that at least 50 people could take shelter under it in rain. The branches were huge and tree was fully covered by small leaves. Different kind of birds, of all colors and size nestled on its branches and chirps. The combine chirping of the birds made a peculiar noise that sounds very lovely to the ears.
Once I thought to give water to its roots. I took a bucket, filled it with water and as I started to pour in roots, Grandfather stopped me and said “ It is a big tree and its roots are in deep of earth, and roots are big enough to take water from the soil. If you really want to give water then give it to small plants”. One day I asked Grandfather that how old this Neem tree is. He said that this tree is older then him, his grandfather might plant this. It has seen all the good and bad of his life and his parent’s life.
Time would pass like Rockets and summer vacation finished. The energy that I possessed when going to Agra turns into melancholy while returning back to Delhi, to the school that I hate most, and the flat where we lived.
One year when I visited Agra, I found the big Neem tree was not there. The earth where it existed was dug up, and there was a big hole in the ground. My favorite tree had cut down. I could not control my tears and started sobbing like a child whose best friend has left him. When Grandfather saw me crying he put his wrinkled hand on my shoulder and said, “ Whoever come in this world has to go, me, you and everyone, including the Neem tree. The tree has got old and could not survive the wind and fell down. If you really love the tree then plant another neem tree on the same place where old tree stood..
I followed Grandfather’s Instructions and plant a small neem plant on the same place, watered it properly. In two months it stems looked strong. When the vacations finished and I was about to leave for Delhi I kissed its small leaves and say a goodbye to it .
I visited Agra few more years, the Neem plant was growing and now it has taken the shape of an adolescent tree. After my grandfather’s death my father stopped my visit to Agra as to concentrate more on study in vacations.
Years passed on, I graduated, employed, married and became father of a lovely girl. Now Appu my daughter is almost two years old and I thought I should take her to my old house at Agra to show her the trees, which I loved most, to experience the same Nostalgia with the old house and garden that I used to feel as a child.
