The Tree

 

He went and sat under the tree in the forest beside his house.

It wasn't that he didn't have any friends. He had many to play with, to talk to. But none that he could really talk to without being judged. He had once told his friend that he was scared of the dark. His friend told everyone in the class and he got teased about it in the playground. He had then come running to this huge tree and cried. And he felt relieved. Ever since then, he would run to the tree whenever his father told him off, his mother chided him, his teacher scolded him or his friends fought with him. He shared his achievements and jubilations with the tree. Sometimes he would go and sit under the tree and tell all his secrets, all his wishes, his aspirations, his fears.

The tree listened silently … just like it listened to many others like the boy. It was least bothered about the events in the boy's life. And he knew it. But it didn't matter to him because for him it was enough that he could lighten up himself, unburden himself beneath the tree. It's presence gave him solace, his presence didn't matter to the tree.

Some people are trees too.

Sheetal Soni