The Banyan tree

The tree stands in the center of the village,
as if it was there before anything was.
The branches are as old as time,
as if this Banyan was the first angiosperm.

There is an elaborate history attached to it.
The first settlers of this village sat under it
when they were outcasted from their older homes.
They had meals under the shadow of this very tree and decided to build around it.

Since then, it became the center of everything here
Children played under it after their hectic days of learning
Men and women would gather here to talk about crops and lives
And old people would sit here to talk about their regrets and what could have been

The Banyan tree stood there, taking it all
as the guardian of all these people.
No one knows who planted it because
their ancestors used to say this place was, uninhabited, except for the tree.

Maybe it was God herself.
She descended from heaven to plant it
Maybe she knew it was this tree that would
act as her apostle when she couldn't.

Children of the village have a special attachment to the tree
They swing on the branches and play catch around the trunk
It is as if every child has an extra grandparent here
A caregiver, a teacher, a companion and a friend

And when they fall from its branches and get back up,
it is as if the tree teaches them their first ever lesson.
A lesson in learning to pick themselves up,
like a father does to his children

The tree has its own thoughts
It has been here to witness many things
Love stories, lessons, lament of wise men and even loathing of selves
But what it hasn't seen is immortality of men

It can see cremation of men from where it stands
Sometimes it even provides wood for it
Sometimes older men desire to be cremated under it
And the tree endures those rising flames too

What men seek by being burnt under it is to have a serenity
They know that it was here that they spent their entire lives
and it should be here that they pass on to the next too.
The tree understands, and abides by it.

The tree is the center of gravity of this village
The one true patron of everyone here
But time is the eternal, incessant god
Nothing lasts beyond it.

There is a motion under consideration now.
Population of the village is on the rise and they seek more space now
Houses are fine, they can build more houses elsewhere
It’s the desire for a new market at the center that is brewing

So as the first exchange, they are trading the soul of the village.
Percy Shelley in her Ozymandias was on point when she said
'Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare',
It's as true for statutes as it is for living beings.

For now the tree will be replaced,
And in its place will be a lifeless place
By the very humans it sheltered
Like a father.

This, probably, is the only rule of life.
That no matter your stature, power or utility,
Obsoletion is inevitable.
What remains is nothing but a jaded memory.