The Sal Tree- A Tribute
The leaves of the sal tree ruffled in the winter morn. Shaking the very vibrations of my thoughts of the past. The number of leaves reverted me back to the present moment. Nature in relation to man. The tree has been standing there in the field in front of our local Meghdoot Club for over more than 30 years now. I still remember the smell of the wet soil , the scattering of the seeds in autumn and brotochari and go- as- u- like, all at one go. It has become my diary . I used to wear men’s wear when it was not in vogue during those times. Playing football and cricket waxed my childhood dreams of becoming an Olympic Champion. Riding my father’s scooter with my brother was enthralling and the tree witnessed it all. Even my father’s death. I was very young then, when he died. My father was my favorite playmate, guardian, parent. The sound of the scooter when on his morning duty found me rushing to the window to bid him goodbye and equally receiving