An Evening Under The Tree

By Revathi Balaga

There's something about sitting alone under a tree. This little leaf here is from a favourite spot on the campus. A small bench with an overarching peepal, outside the Vinayaka temple. Ficus religiosa, or Raavi chettu, as it is called in Telugu, is a sure sight at most temples.

As I picked it up, it told me of the innocence of the young fresher who once sat there, assuring his mother that he had indeed finished his dinner. Of the sophomore who preferred to study in the open- trying to get his head around complex theorems of linear algebra.

Of the cute confession, and of the crimson hue that it had left on both the men's cheeks, a near-perfect reflection of the evening sky. Is it the tenderness of the scene that made the evening sky blush, too?

The deep conversations that laid bare vulnerabilities, the brainstorming sessions for the newest edition of the college festival.

I asked if it felt any pressure to emulate the wise old Banyan leaves, or was told that those of the Almond tree looked better.

But the Buddha did not attain enlightenment under the Banyan; the Almond leaf didn't inspire the design of the Bharath Ratna, it said.

The folds on its surface are frown lines, in fact. Or smile wrinkles. I do not know.

Standing witness to a myriad emotions, the fears and assurances, wishes and insecurities, celebrations and heartbreaks, a time capsule masquerading as a lone leaf. If there's anyone who understands the word sonder, I'd say it's this leaf.

I wanted to take it with me. What a great companion it would be to the pages of my favourite book! I put the leaf back on the bench, and got up to leave. Basking in the moonlight in all its glory, it smiled at me. Why would I want to confine it to just one story?

By Revathi Balaga