Renewing bond with Mother Nature

They are indispensable. They are everywhere. We pass by them merrily, inhaling the gentle aroma emitted by their florets and fruits. We run for their shelter to escape the ruthless sun of the summers or the sudden downpour of the monsoon. They never let us down. Unmindful of our heed, magnanimous trees keep on growing and spreading their shoots of compassion, silently and constantly.

This lockdown, with curtailed clinical hours, my wife and I had plenty of time at our disposal to go for long walks. Every time we ventured out together for immunity-boosting walks, she would keep exclaiming on the way, “Do you know which tree it is; just look at its stunning canopy; I haven’t seen such a fruit of any tree; look at the pattern of the leaves of this tree.” Lost in my own cacophonous mind, my occasional nod or a syllable of approval weren’t enough to satiate her childlike curiosity and excitement. Therefore, she lost no time in ordering two voluminous books on trees.

Identifying the trees merely by reading the well-illustrated books was a challenging job. Apart from the more familiar ones like pipal, jamun, amaltas or neem, studying the foliage pattern of the trees and comparing their little fruits and flowers with the ones mentioned in the book was a Herculean task. I tried my best to dissuade her from the zealous pursuit but in vain.

“We pass by them daily. They are silently working day in and day out to keep the entire planet thriving. And what do we know about them? A little acquaintance would do no harm.” Her little sermon was enough for me to be a silent and reluctant accomplice in her pursuit to explore and marvel at the family roots of the well-rooted trunks.

Two months of long walks in different directions, imbued with a keen interest in nature, have brought us to a stage where we can recognise most of the trees that come our way. My wife tries to delve deeper into the economical and medicinal values of the unique trees while I am thrilled even if I am able to identify one.

Now, for us they aren’t just trees anymore. We address them by their names — popular or botanical. They are Kadamba, Chukrasia, Bakul, Kusum, Reetha, Kachnaar, Harshingar, Khair, Karanj, Pilkhana, Shirish, Arjuna and Kanak Champa, to name a few.

Now that the restrictions have eased, and I’ve extended my clinical hours, I no longer accompany her on the long walks. But her interest in the flora and fauna hasn’t diminished a wee bit. Every evening, I return home to be welcomed by a new discovery in her hands and a twinkle in her eyes.

As her bond with Mother Nature grows stronger with each passing day, I’m reminded of the immortal lines of legendary poet Shiv Batalvi: “Kujh rukh mainu putt lagde ne, Kujh rukh lagde ne maavan, Kujh rukh noohan-dheeyan varge, Kujh rukh vaang bharavan…”