The Bench at the Banyan Tree

By Adv.Harjeet Kaur

Everything in the village slowed down in the evening. One of the patient elders leaned on the banyan tree, which grew along the square like a root and bore, as branches, a load of memories and secrets. Below it was a bench of old timber, worn and decayed, yet stalwart enough not to give way, daffodils to the pilot receiving no oral history.

That bench was not a seat for Ritu. It belonged to her childhood and was a mini-kingdom that she could share with Rhea, her dearest friend. There they both met each night after school, and two chattering, laughing, dreaming girls, too big to live in a small town. They were talking of becoming a doctor, a dancer, or travellers, anything that would allow them to be free in the world that bound their lives.

Everything was seen in the banyan tree. It saw how tempered Rhea was when she first failed her major exam and how the tears came rolling in, and she confessed to her. It had observed the impossibility of Ritu the next day when her mother died, an impossibility so great that Rhea, in her hand, had broken through. They lacked the terms at that time, and they were not required.

Time passed, as it always does. Childhood ran through adulthood, and life threw them like withered leaves in the wind. Rhea went to the city where she taught at a college. Ritu married at a young age, as people believed that love is forever. Letters were written and calls made intermittently over the years, but despite the irregularity of these, there was always something that united the two individuals by an unbroken bond. Some bonds do not require nurturing to survive.

However, when Ritu returned to the village, she was no longer the same girl, the dreamer under that tree. She wore fatigue on her face, the kind of fatigue that does not seem to have seized her, but to her heart, which has worked too long and too hard. Her marriage was over, not to be fought, but to wear away gradually with patience. Indeed, she was drained, like a dry well

.

It was one evening, and as usual, she went rambling towards the banyan tree. It was a familiar and foreign road to walk down, as if into an old photograph. She had no idea that anybody would be present. However, when the sun went down and the light changed to gold, she could see someone sitting on the bench with their hands clasped over their lap and their head tilted.

"Rhea".  

Nothing much had changed her, the same composure of her eyes, the same sweet curve of her smile. No words were exchanged. Rhea just raised her eyes, and in doing so, Ritu seemed to hear something fly open within herself, not pain, but release. Rhea leaned a little and patted the spot beside her, and Ritu sat down unconsciously.

Sometimes they remained silent. The banyan tree rustled gently over their heads. In the far off, there was laughing somewhere. The village reeked of rain and wood smoke.

There was no need to explain, no need to define the time that had passed between them, the breakup, the silence. Rhea did not inquire about the matter. She didn't offer advice. She just stood there; she was as solid as the ground they were on.

Ritu saw that night that being a good friend does not entail being in touch all the time, but being intact. The type that does not fade with distance, and brightens with the years. It is the silent saying that somewhere in the world, there is a place that you belong, even though the world has forgotten your name.

When Ritu had watched the sun slide down the horizon, a strange peace had fallen on her. The ache had not stopped yet, but it had become softer; it seemed as if it was shared by the being beside her. She looked back at Rhea, smiled a little, weary and grateful, all at once.

Rhea didn't say anything. She didn't need to.

 Sometimes, healing doesn't arrive as words.

 It comes as a presence.

As a friend waiting on an old bench beneath a banyan tree

, she was the one who stayed,

 without ever needing to be asked.

"True friendship doesn't ask for presence every day; instead, it simply promises that I'll be there when you need me to. Remember you're not alone."

By Adv.Harjeet Kaur