A kind farmer

 

There was a 250-year-old banyan tree. It stood on a parcel of land owned by a farmer named Balbir Singh. The land was acquired by the NHAI for road construction. The farmer tried to save the tree and requested to let the tree stay at its original place and divert the road a bit.

The kindly farmer had absolutely no problem about his land being acquired for building roads. He just wanted to save the tree. He was ready to offer more land for development provided the highway was re-routed to save the tree.

He told them that the tree would look beautiful as a landmark. But they didn’t listen to him. The roads go straight with a dreadful effrontery. Mere trees are just insignificantly irksome. The roads, on the other hand, are the swords cutting distances. They are cold hearted and cut trees, hills and homes in their wake. Unsparing insentient beings.

All his efforts to save the ancient tree went unheeded. The farmer really loved the tree and requested the authorities to replant the tree at a suitable place. He launched a campaign to force the authorities to replant it at a place of his choice.

A social media campaign was started to save the tree. Many activists, NGOs and volunteers also added their voice of support. They even reached the doorsteps of the local Member of Parliament.

His efforts at least convinced the authorities to relocate the tree to another place in his landholding. The NHAI officials, the local administration, horticulture experts and land acquisition authorities assured him that they would try their best to expertly uproot the tree and replant it at a different place. He was clearly given a word that the tree would surely survive after the scientific relocation.

He chose his own land for the grand old tree’s replanting and became the axis of the replanting drive. The administration kept emphasizing that the roots would be intact and the tree will be grafted using all the scientific practices to ensure it will re-grow.

Sadly, even after a good monsoon came and went, the tree didn’t grow a single new shoot. The farmer himself watered the replanted tree and took ample care. Even the horticulture experts visited frequently for follow-up steps. But the tree didn’t sprout.

The farmer is feeling let down by the authorities. He is thinking of taking them to the court for making a false promise and breach of trust. Kisan Unions and environmentalists have been lending their voice in support of the farmer.

The farmer sees the tree as a legacy for his progeny. His ancestors had worked hard in the fields and rested under its shade. The tree was the pride of the village and was said to be planted by some Muslim family in pre-independent India. He fondly reminisces that cattle, animals, birds and humans took shelter under it in the scorching heat.

Well, it’s a glimmer of hope that there are people around who love trees more than the commerce of land. The cherry-toned whisper of love for nature in this post-modernist bewilderment. The soft-springed gait amidst the collective floundering rush towards the precipice overlooking a still nastier abyss.