Rebirth

About three decades ago, on a sunny afternoon in May 1995 in Delhi, we stepped into our new home. What stood close to our entrance immediately caught my eye with its aesthetic beauty. Though I didn’t know its name or species, I was instantly drawn to it.

Our house was a two-story building with an open-air terrace on top. After we had settled in a bit and as the sun was about to set, I went up to the terrace to look around. To my utter surprise, what had drawn my attention while entering the house was calmly looking back at me, its branches seeming to extend in greeting, swaying in the breeze. I studied it closely and fell in love. It was a tall, leafy green tree stretching its branches in all directions. Its crown surpassed our building’s height, and its thick foliage offered generous shade to passersby.

As the sun dipped down, I heard the chirping of various birds in the tree. At day’s end, they returned to their sanctuary that nestled them.

I realized the tree’s greatness in how it served others: offering shade to pedestrians, fodder to domestic animals through fallen leaves, fuel to the poor with dry leaves and branches, and nurturing countless birds whose nests perched on its branches. These birds were as much a part of it as its own limbs and leaves. The tree seemed equally joyous with its sprouting leaves and the birds’ hatchlings. It was truly a grand union!

Time passed… days and months went by. Seasons changed. During winter, it shed all its leaves, and come spring, it sprouted anew. I developed a kinship with that tree. As an early riser, I woke to the twitter of birds at dawn. This incredible dawn chorus was a gift to all early risers like me. After their daily ventures, the birds would return to their safe haven. While their morning songs served as my wake-up call, I rarely saw them in the evenings, returning from work too late when they had already fallen asleep.

One evening after returning from work, I learned of an electricity problem in our lane. During a sudden storm, a protruding branch had repeatedly struck the overhead power line, disrupting the supply. This had happened before, and affected residents had complained to the electricity department. The office promised swift action but needed approval from the environmental department before felling the problematic branch. Though steady power supply was crucial in Delhi’s summer, I thought the process would take at least a few days.

To my shock, three days later, I returned to find all the branches cut down, leaves scattered, and countless bird nests shattered on the ground. The mournful cries of the displaced birds were unbearable. Even at 10 PM, the homeless birds circled the sky around their former home. Their cries were heartbreaking, making the atmosphere truly dismal.

People busily collected branches for their own use, forgetting the tree’s noble service in providing shade during scorching heat, fodder for animals, and shelter for hundreds of birds. The department had left only twelve feet of the main trunk standing, for reasons unknown.

I believe they could have simply trimmed the specific branches causing the power disruption rather than destroying all branches and countless bird homes. The power, environment, and other related departments should have worked together to preserve greenery while addressing civilization’s needs.

This incident disturbed me deeply. For many days, I abandoned my habit of visiting the terrace in the mornings and evenings, missing the birds’ wake-up calls and the branches dancing in the breeze. Out of habit and affection, I would occasionally glance at the remaining trunk, expecting workers to eventually remove it completely.
Time passed… seasons changed.

One spring holiday, I looked up at the trunk of the shattered tree. To my amazement, I saw young leaves sprouting from its acute bend. I was overwhelmed with joy and exclaimed, “Life in nature prevails!” Then I heard a little bird singing merrily, as if echoing Shelley’s words: “If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”

It seems fitting to recall Albert Einstein’s wisdom here: “Look deep into nature, and you will understand everything better.”

This piece is written in memory of Roshmi, my beloved sister-in-law, who passed away three years ago.

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About the Author

Tapan Dasgupta ( 11 Posts)

Tapan Dasgupta, a business associate caters to corporate brand promotion and scribbles at pastime to shape out literary forms.
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