Do the trees speak...Yes ! Take heed

The way you and I behave in the parks is quite objectionable to the GREENS. The pic here is courtesy Fun-mazaa.

MIDDLE
The speaking tree

by K. Rajbir Deswal
Having jogged a bit hard in the Town Park, I stopped under the lonely, holy and aged Peepal tree to stabilise my breathing. “Hey, you humans are strange creatures!” I heard from nowhere when I looked at a pattern of falling bark on the trunk of the Peepal. “Are you a speaking tree?” I asked and observed a smile flashing on the tree-face. You may call it wooden, but I will not, since it had emotions, expressions and was enormously animated.
“You all are here everyday and still do not greet one another. Rather, you brush past as if by the side of a log, on encountering someone, menacingly brisk-walking on his doctor’s advice. You seem to spare no winks and smiles for each other. You do not exchange even a kind of tokenism of your supplemental existence,” the speaking tree was quite candid in his observations and expression of disgust.
“And what else have you observed about us, the human beings,” I asked trying to restrict the curve of my smile when pat came the suggestion: “Now stand for a while and look at the one who is cutting corners literally and also the other one who does not go faithfully on the curved walking track and rather strays off tangent for a short cut. What for? To save some distance? To cheat oneself! Fools.” The speaking tree was full of contempt at the behavior of the ‘park pals’ — an expression he did not agree with since he had not seen any bonding between those who come daily to walk in the park.
I stood speechless when again the Peepal nitpicked, “Now look at them. They are three of them. A man and two women in tow. I can have a bet that they will never walk from under the wire mesh shed, loaded with green creepers, but will ‘bypass’ it. Is it not pleasurable walking in that airy, shadowy, green arcade purpose-made only for them to have a more idyllic feel!”
The speaking tree had hardly concluded when I saw exactly the same thing happening in front of me. I chuckled and kept mum with my breathing being restored slowly but my eyes becoming heavier with inability to face the tree-face due to some kind of guilt experienced.
“Tell me something good and heartwarming speaking tree since you know it is very rare that one hears such pithy stuff,” I tried to digress and seek a real philosophical intervention from the “Mighty Seer” for he might still go ahead with his banter against those who litter, spit and soil the parks, what the environmentalists call the lungs in urban habitations. “All I can recall are the stories of sweat and toil my dear!” speaking tree said with some lament laced in his comment.
“Sweat and toil? Sorry, I didn’t quite follow it.” I sought an elaboration. “All I wish to say is that once upon a time the farmer and tiller of this land used to sweat out here to earn his bread and spare a lot for others as well. But nowadays the likes of you sweat it out here but only seeking to maintain appropriate levels of your blood pressure, sugar and cholesterol etc. But you are still better of the lot,” speaking tree said to me. “How come you are so kind to me?” I asked. “At least you are listening to me while all others pay no heed.”
I took leave of the speaking tree quite pampered. But aren’t great souls known to pamper and preach. Take heed O’ Homo sapiens.
The Tribune carried this middle on January 2'2008. Click title to see.

Taj on top of the World

On his visit to India, the then US President Bill Clinton,while addressing the Lower and the Upper Houses of Parliament had said that the world was divided into two halves...one of those who had seen the Taj and the other of those who hadn't...

I had then weaved an encounter between Clinton and Taj-builder King Shahjehan which was published in The Pioneer. Here is the piece...
TAJ HOUSE TO WHITE MAHAL


All by himself Shahjehan the great Moughal emperor walks on the grassy lawns in front of the Taj Mahal with a flower in his hands wearing his imperial robe. He is waiting for someone. The name of the visitor is announced and Bill Clinton arrives on the scene. Shahjehan expects him to bow before in Sijda but Clinton offers his hand. Shahjehan kisses his hand and offers him to sit on a concrete bench where millions and millions have posed for a photograph. Both sit on the bench and Shahjehan assures the apprehensive Clinton that the paparazzi can not come near them and click them for sale to interested editors of the tabloids of the West. “What about the Indian press, His Highness? Asks Clinton. ”Don”t worry they are all busy with Deepa Mehta! ”Informs Shahjehan.

Shahjehan begins talking.” Infact I was quite happy to notice you say to the Darbaris, they call them M.P.s these days, that the world was divided in two halves of those who had seen the Taj and those who hadn’t. I was happier to hear you say that you were going to be on the happier side eof the divide since you had scheduled to pay a visit to the Taj. And naturally it was to be so. I can not think of a man in the world who loves and is ignorant about Taj, which is love concretised, marbled, metamorphosed. However Mr.Prezi, I think I am I right in placing you, it would have been all the more better if you had brought your wife along because it is here that she could have come to terms with you and decided to stay with you in your White-Mahal, and you would have been saved of the embarrassment caused to you by snooping lensmen who take your shots with the royal Buddy and publish in newspapers. But I am told this has generated a sympathy wave for you there in your country.”

An amazed Clinton looks agape in the face of Shahjehan and quizzes, ”But how Your Majesty, you know all this now being almost a man in another world, joined perhaps with your lady love for whom you created the grammar of love in creating the Taj. I’ll ask the C.I.A. boys to learn a few tips from your system of “information and...!And Your Majesty, could you please elaborate on as to what isnpired to build such a fine mausoleum? Was it love alone? Really? I am told you had hundreds of women in your, what do they call it, hum m m, Harem! And Your Majesty, I have heard of certain poets as well who blamed you for having created the Taj only to make fun at their cost since being poor they could not please their beloveds in such an extravagant manner as you did…!”

“Let me tell you, Mr.Prez that there have been critics of the marble, meaning thereby the cost of Taj but there has been none who has criticised it as a symbol of love and I know of a poet who had gone to the extent of calling it a token given to me to the world to symbolise love in all its forms. Since its creation, lovers have sworn by Taj. And your being present here confirms this belief.” Now Mr.Prez if you have come to ask personal questions, would you, rest assured I am not going to tell it to anybody since I live in my grave and peep out of it only once in while, tell me what was that Mohtarma story which generated.

“Oh! Jesus! Your Majesty that is an old story. You know the people. They will be the same all the world over. But shouldn’t we be above all these things? Pleaded Clinton and Shahjehan preferring not to embarrass a guest in perfect Indian traditions gave an altogether new turn to the discussion. “ Well, Mr. Prez I have been hearing stories all these years from the guides that I had intended to build another Taj in black marble on the other side of Jamuna there…!” And Shahjehan points to a direction with Clinton looking as guided, Shahjehan requests,”With all those resources at your command and the world being on your side today and you being the king of the world, can you attempt making the Taj of the guides” dreams there at that site?

Clinton did not know how to wriggle out of the situation when the most powerful king of his times, begged of him a favour –creation of another symbol of love. And this time a black one. He said, ” Your Majesty, next time I come to India, I hope Ill be able to persuade Hillary to come along and then we can surely decide to consider the proposal. Maybe she gets inspired and chimes in! Till then you can be content with my assurance that I may atleast for myself, call my own residence there in my country, The White Mahal.”