The Pathless Path to a Grand Old Tree

The moment we leave the last foot trail, thus surrendering the entitlement or privilege of the beaten path's comfort and security, we find ourselves on the open canvas of prospects and potentiality to mark our own trail. A sense of elation, liberation and freedom starts trickling in through the fog of fear, apprehension and inhibition. I get this teasing feeling of adventure and elation as I finally leave the marked path, the last vestiges of the foot trail losing its identity among the rainfed luxuriant forest growth. The human foot loses its smell, allowing the pure scent of nature trees, plants, bushes and vines to cascade around in full freedom. Mother nature basks in pristine sovereignty.
We are conditioned to follow the comfort and security of the marked trail of çustoms, conventions and beliefs as much as we feel secure in following the human foot on a forest trail. The more I move into the open embrace of human-untrampled nature, a sense of wonderment overcomes my apprehension. I move with reptilian grace, with pliability, fluidity, acceptance and receptivity. I don't trangress or try to force my way with my typical human attitude and spirit of controlling the nature elements around. I just have a faint idea of where I am headed to. I request the pristine forest energy to allow me move and be properly guided on the pathless path. Tits, sparrows and pippits send out shrill warnings to each other from the bushes. Rufous treepies shriek accusatively. A kakad, the tiniest memeber in the deer family dashes like the hundred meter sprinter of the forest. Asian barbet lets loose a puk-puk-puk trail of notes that goes gliding over the valley. Jungle fowls scamper under the bushes. Quails quake with fear and anger. Reptiles must have moved unseen as they do with ease. And who knows some leopard must have looked with disgust from some point as there are around 80 of them in the area as per the latest census.
I seek forgiveness for the disturbance I create. Like a vulnerable but joyful child I just ask for guidance on the pathless path. Not too much to my surprise, I find myself at the most suitable points over ridges, brooks and valleys. And my milestone awaits for me as if it has been waiting for me specifically.
An older than the oldest crocodile bark tree instantly makes me feel coming at home at last. Crocodile bark trees are medium size trees that remain leafless for many months in a year. The monsoon rains have infused new life and fresh, verdant leaves gleam with the pure smile of undisturbed nature. Every species have their Behemoth. If there is any among the crocodile bark trees in the region, it must be this tree. The Behemoth is stamped with age. The time worn trunk is massive like that of banyan. It has the oldest of a great-great-great-grandfatherly feel. Toothless, worn out, skin shriveled, huge shock of white hair and massive beard. But still elegant with an all-knowing smile of centuries of wisdom. A mere look and a feeling of its old age fetches reverence. It has been an undisturbed concentration of energy for many many decades. Its path has been clearly free of human intervention. Dead wood has fallen around it and houses mosses and ferns. It has fought its battle under the open forces of nature. It carries its battle scars over the massive moss-laden hollows and crumbling citadel of its trunk. The decaying primary trunk has still enough life to support a few offshoots of the size of young trees of the species. Among the new offshoots, there is enough room for me to lie down and stare into the huge hollow primary trunk carrying its mossy darkness into the oldest roots where I am sure a cobra family would feel at their comfortable most. I take off my shoes and climb into the ancient old wood platform like I enter a temple. I meditate and feel the blessings by its old hand. Imbued with its selfless energy I climb down and bow before it and seek guidance on the pathless path.
As per the logical choice of my conscious mind, I see an opening high on the slope leading to the crest of the hill. As per my reasoning, it should be my first choice. But I have opened myself to the natural guidance of the open forces of nature, so I simply wait for some impulse, some driving of an alternative choice in my mind. On some instinct I am driven into a thick wall of tress and bushes straight ahead instead of the convenient clear path above. I can hardly see anything because the growth is really thick. After struggling for a couple of hundred yards, I find myself on the open clear palm of a ledge in the slope overlooking the valley and a clear path leading to the point that would ensure that I will be able to take knowing steps to my recourse and define my back journey. I then look at the point where I would have reached if I were to take the apparently easy path leading to the hill crest in the other direction. It would surely have left me in the middle of almost nowhere, requiring a few hours of slogging to reach the nearest point on my back journey. A storm cloud is building over the hilltop. A smile of gratitude and love surfaces on my face. I am convinced that the tree spirit has guided me because I have choosen to pay respect to the natural intelligence waving around. I again bow in the direction of the grand old tree and proceed on my journey. Well, not on the pathless path this time, but on the convenient human stamped track!