Memories of an Old Banyan Tree
How an old banyan tree brought back fond memories of the past…
I have fond memories of a childhood spent playing under an old banyan tree, which stood majestically at the far end of a large playground, in my school. The towering botanical splendour was not only a favourite haunt for girls to play hide and seek but also for our English teachers, who prided themselves to the likes of teachers at Rabindranath Tagore’s Shantiniketan. ‘Palanquin Bearers’, a poem with lilting rhythmic verses written by none other than the Nightingale of India, Smt Sarojini Naidu, was music to our young ears or an afternoon spent listening to our teacher’s vociferous display of her vocal expertise, in bringing out the detailed nuances from Shakespeare’s, A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
‘Where the mind is without fear’, a poem written by Gurudev Shri Rabindranath Tagore, was a short five-minute play that was enacted under this banyan tree, by my classmates and everyone regaled at their performances and were given small prizes for their performances. These small acts of praise and appreciation gave us the confidence to move forward. In the mid-eighties, we did not have any access to computers or any fancy gadgets but we still moved ahead in our education and made a career for ourselves. Such unique teaching methods by our dedicated teachers are worthy of mention and deepest respect, for the highest academic standards that they set for themselves. All the credit goes to that glorious banyan tree, which made us look forward to our afternoon lessons, under its salubrious shade along with a cool and mild breeze blowing on our tired yet eager faces.
Our history teachers ignited a sense of patriotism and also a sense of duty towards our country where lessons of legendary martyrs, Bhagat Singh, Chandrasekhar Azad and Sukhdev were narrated to us with such fierce passion and a sense of pride, while we sat under this beautiful banyan tree and listened to them with rapt attention.
Listening to Ruskin Bond’s ghost stories on a summer afternoon would send chills down our tender teenage spines as we heard our teachers narrating the story with such audacious conviction, that made us spend sleepless nights wondering if everything about the paranormal world was, ‘normal’ and above all real. It was only after I grew up into a confident young woman, that all these small incidents in my life would make me laugh out loud as I reminisced about my school days.
I remember running around that old banyan tree, along with my peers and experiencing a nasty fall wounding myself so badly, not once but several times and rushing to the school’s dormitory to be treated for my messed up wounds which would take several days to heal.
All our girly secrets are hidden in the deep dark brown bark of this banyan tree, as we gossiped about the latest Mills and Boon romantic novels, that we were reading, from the school’s large and well-stocked library, hoping that someday in our futures a handsome knight, in shining armour would come and sweep us off our feet.
Tasty tiffins would be shared by our group of girls, which would gradually ensue into a fight if someone had a larger share of something delicious brought by one of us. As growing girls, each one of us had a ravenous appetite and would wolf down our food with great gusto. On other days, just sitting under the banyan tree and chatting about all things sundry like books, clothes, fashion and the latest movie and giggling gave us girls a sense of belonging, along with great friendship and camaraderie.
Before the long Diwali vacations, started all my classmates along with our teachers would sit under the banyan tree to discuss various programmes and shows that would be put up for the ‘Annual Day.’ We girls would begin rehearsing for our skits, short plays, or even a dance performance. This entire programme would be well-coordinated with students of other classes and girls from higher standards.
With the winds of change in the education system, along with the ravages of modernization, the school has now added many new buildings along with a large auditorium, to cater to the growing demands of students and parents seeking to gain knowledge and education from this prestigious institution.
The school has still retained its old glory and allowed the old banyan tree, to stand majestically at the far end of the ground. It’s important that we do not chop off our roots. A small sapling, which was planted during the time of British rule now stands tall and is a silent witness to a history of an era gone by. Even now the tall tree must be witnessing the laughter and giggles of the students, like a towering and a protective father figure.
‘Change is the only thing that is permanent’ and it is something that should be accepted as a part of life, growth and our well-being, but some things should be left to remain in the past. Dwelling in nostalgia is a bitter-sweet experience and that is what I am feeling right now. As I flip through these pages, in my memory which have now turned yellow, the floodgates of my tear glands open and salty tears, flow relentlessly as wonderful memories of this old banyan tree come alive.
I admire the tireless and relentless efforts, of our environmentalists and green warriors, who have fought to save such rare and beautiful green gems, which are dotted across the length and breadth of our country. Hat’s off to them and their untiring work.
How a tree could have impacted my life so much is something unimaginable, as well as overwhelming in more ways than one. The fact that I could weave a short story surrounding a banyan tree, gives me a sense of pride and accomplishment. I could not have been more thankful to life for those most cherished moments even to this day.
If my article has resonated with you then please subscribe to my email id sunittaraman@gmail.com to get notified whenever I publish next time.
