A defeat that smells of love & hope

Hari Krishan Chaudhary 

THE trees were majestic, lining the internal roads of our society. Planted decades ago, they had grown tall, with a green canopy of branches covered with a profusion of seven-pointed leaves, giving them the name ‘saptparni’, along with its other name — the ‘devil’s tree’.

The annual ritual of pruning the branches had arrived with the onset of winter. Every household who hitherto parked cars under the shade were now one above the rest to get the branches cut, as they were blocking the sun. The same sun that was not so welcome for eight months of the year. They will grow again was the logical explanation.

Since some trees had well developed roots, some tree-haters arose from the ranks, arguing that the roots will damage roads and paver tiles. 

A meeting was proposed by the executive committee of the society to decide the fate of 20-odd trees. Doomsday arrived. Some green thumbs tried to counter the onslaught: the trees were decades-old and cutting them without permission will invite penalty from the government department concerned. We proposed the cutting of some branches to permit more sunlight.

But the tree-cutters were adamant. Their concern for road and pavements was more pronounced. They proposed the planting of smaller flowering trees to compensate for the loss. The road protectors far outnumbered the tree-savers. It appeared that devils were bent upon killing their namesake. Their arguments supported by brute majority seemed clinched.

Just then my neighbour stood up to submit his views. He started rather dramatically: ‘Exalted members! It seems that the devil’s days are numbered. But still I would like to submit a few words before you. I request you to wait for 10 more days and watch the trees bloom. Take a walk around the society then. Submerge yourself in the sweet smell, like crushed cardamoms, of the tiny flowers. Or sit in your living room with the windows open. Thereafter, you are free to do whatever you like with them.’ 

The 10 days are long gone. Nobody asserted their tree-axing agenda. The sweet fragrance of the flowers has come like a tsunami of scent, engulfing the entire society. Many fence-sitters are now the new advocates, joining the group of tree-savers. Many did not even know till then that the fragrance was from the blossoms.

The tall trees, with profusion of white flowers, spread an all-pervading fragrance, so strong and pleasing that it overwhelmed all those opposing their existence. It was a delectable form of defeat. It smelled like love.