My Mango Tree

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

I am not a tree-lover; that is except the aesthetic  I am not interested in the botanical part of it. But I love to see clusters of ripening mangoes hanging tantalizingly in others' orchards. Mangoes are forbidden to me but like Adam 's weakness prompted by the temptress Eve I have an uncanny deathwish to taste things forbidden. But the sight of trees lining up country roads in a midnight drive always excite me eeriely. Deep forests are  a supernal elysium for my beauty hungry soul.  But I never plant saplings nor give water nor ever pluck a flower or fruit because I am fated to enjoy things as they are without making them mine own. This trait perhaps is  induced in me by love which is a far off vision, beautiful , lush and exciting but unreachable as I never  believe in snatching things away which do not naturally come to me. I am passionately involved with life's goodies but dispassionately stay apart from adventurous escapades for that would demean my soul.

But  this mango tree was an exception. When my house was ready without my sweat or worry- my son oversaw the design, construction and everything- the space around the house deserved some greenery as was time and again suggested by friends and wellwishers. Prativa Rai ,the iconic novelist named my  house Chitrakavya and donated a few coconut saplings. Thereafter other flower seedlings were planted. My son bought two mango saplings and planted one to the east and the other a few feet from the balcony of my bedroom towards south. After a month or two  one day I saw the mango tree, casually as it drew my attention by her symmetrical growth. She seemed to me like a five year old girl sprightly and vivacious, and admired the growing tree, she had a scent which reminded me  which I could never recognize or identify. But whenever I went to the balcony the scent haunted me with a forlorn charm. Then she grew, I was unmindful, and time flew past like a visiting guest and that was that...

I was busy plodding and groaning, feeling grouchy as my jealous friends were  conspiring to see me  slide down from a position they thought  I didn't deserve. But despite their hungry looks at me I increased my pace with my only inspiration from a distance bestowing energy without knowing about it. I held on and went higher and the mango tree meantime grew taller without my noticing it. One day I went up the roof of the first floor for my morning walk as the roads outside were slushy and a shower was in the offing. Suddenly I saw a big odd circle spread of dark green leaves almost a good four feet over the parapet into the roof blocking my path. The leaves looked so very beautiful and healthy that I could not resist the temptation of taking a whole view of it coming down . Since that moment almost every week I looked at her . Her beauty had an elegant majesty. The trunk was uniform and straight like a fashion parade belle she had tapering torso and heavy bulges at the right place. She had four branches and each branch had long and short sub tranches but she covered a large area, the top part leaning towards our back door neighbour's compound.

She did not bear fruit for a long time. Almost for fifteen years she was barren. I don't know what came to me' one day in 2016 I whispered to her, touching her trunk caressingly: 'Hey beautiful'! Get over your barren state ' people feel you are incomplete if you are not fruitful.' That year nothing happened. In 2017 a few buds appeared and three big reddish yellow fruits she gave. I told her one night , Thank you, you are fulfilled now. Next year she bore about 30  sweet fruits. But this year she was full of buds( Baula) so full and wild that people from the neighbourhood came to see her. My granddaughter made a video of it and sent around. I was happy. Unseasonal rains  destroyed half of her proud buds, but she bravely stood as a young pretty woman  carrying twins much to my joy. It was not for the fruits but for her fulfillment.

And then came Fani on 3rd May . I thought Fani would be fun to watch on TV. But Fani after flattening Puri came over rushing  at 215 kmph and blasted the towers and minarets of the  smart city. She at first swayed side ways, her roots pushed up some soil. But she stood firm. I did not watch. At 12.15 my son said she has fallen. I was sad  went running to see her stately from the ground. She was graceful and majestic in death. She didnot  fall straight to our side; she did not fall straight to our neighbour's side; she sacrificed herself witout causing any damage except the compound wall which she broke along with her fall into the vacant lot. There were no birds to sing her dirge. Only towards evening two squirrels and a few ants paid their respects. I mused: I love you: Take my farewell. Adieu