Travels and the Great Tree

Travels often bring out the best in people. Even the most mundane of daily travels can have a stimulating effect on the mind. For me, it is always the outrageous which plays in my mind while journeying. Lately I was fortunate enough to visit some parts of Madhya Pradesh state’s forest belt. A friend of mine pointed to a big banyan tree and proclaimed it to be over 300-400 years old. This triggered a slew of ideas in my mind. What if by some way, we can make the tree to talk? If by some way, I can just communicate with it.
If it is 300 year old then did the banyan witness the Battle of Plassey from its heights atop the hill? It must have seen the epic battles between the Marathas and Ahmad Shah Abdali. It must have wept with all of us, when Delhi turned red after Nadir Shah’s carnage on the city. Climbing a bit more the top branches might as well have caught a glimpse of America’s freedom struggle or even seen Bismarck’s war cries. So much can be learnt from the tree if I can only talk to her once.
Better even if the tree –lets name it B- is 400 years old. So much information must be stored on every pore of B’s body. She must have witnessed the landing of the first British ships in India. I wonder how B will rate the making of “Jodha Akbar”.
If I can only have a date with the 400 year old Banyan tree! I will extract information not known otherwise, and I shall become famous instantly. More than meager fame, it is the glory of seeing the world from up the Vindhyas for the period of 400 years that makes this the greatest of all journeys.

The Holy Cow!

I am the Holy Cow of India
The envy of all other quadrupeds
I am treated like a god king here
The great Homo Sapien stoops before me


I had a king’s upbringing
Was born off a junkyard in New Delhi’s glitziest district
Did my schooling off slums
Where young innocent minds showered me with the reddest of bricks


For food I was always pampered
No boring green leafy vegetables or simple hay for me
I had the best of junk food
Spicy Continental Banana skins garnished on polythene packs


My mom called me one day and told me about a dream land nearby
She told me of a place on the foothills of mountains where flowed the sacred Ganga
It was the holiest of cities in India
Our kind are particularly given royal treatment there


So I went along dreaming of all the pleasures
I felt welcome when a picture of a sister was embedded on stone
So I went in looking for the priest’s blessings
I was blessed by his wooden rod, holier than all of humanity


I know I am a protected animal here
My life is guaranteed
Pity my brothers elsewhere
Who are fed and nourished only to fall prey with life still in them


I will continue to flourish till the body finally gives way
Till then I shall enjoy the best of junk- and all that for free
Who needs a McDonald’s or Wimpy’s
I am the Holiest of Holy Cows in India