They reached near a small plant
inside the jungle, which was fenced by barbwires. The gentleman and the girl
kneel down to the plant, removed the weeds and tilled the soil by a stick. Both
of them watered the small plant with utmost care and affection, stood there in
an eerie silence for a few minutes. At one moment, the gentleman stroked the
leaves and stem of the plant. I found something strange in them and reached
them to strike a conversation. A touching story unfolded here to
me in this Marathwada region. The man lost her daughter in January 2018, at a
very young age of 21 due to a medical illness. Most of her organs were donated.
Her ashes and mortal remains are placed beneath the soil and a tree was planted
on it. Since then, it was a regular
affair for their family members, to visit this plant every week with water and
manures. They fenced the plant and ensured the plant is nurtured with enough
nutrients and water for its growth. The gentleman said, my dearest daughter is
living and growing right here, as another meaningful rebirth and gift to the
world.
His eyes welled up-in tears while
sharing this story and tears started flowing from my eyes. He said that
planting a tree on her mortal remains gives him the best of satisfaction rather than building a cemetery in her honor. He
also said that, most of the trees in this jungle are raised up like this. The
relatives ensure the trees are well-grown; and they visit the trees often. I was literally astounded on hearing this custom,
where the dead take a rebirth, giving oxygen to the living ones. I walked further deep into the
woods, sat there beneath a tree, gazed at the trees, leaves and its
surroundings. The mid-morning silver sunrays pierced through the dense green
foliage to touch the ground. Two tree squirrels were seen mocking a fight for a
wild berry on a tree bark. A herd of
goats was busy grazing the bushes at one corner of the jungle. The herdsman resting
under a tree was occupied with his smartphone; busy in completing his daily mobile
data of 1GB. In the distance, I can see the fluttering colorful prayer flags
from the nearby Buddhist monastery. The gentleman bid adieu to her daughter and
left the place. He slowly started disappearing from my gaze behind a
statue of Lord Buddha in the monastery. I took a deep breath, bowed down to the
base of the trunk of few trees, the living human souls, with much of reverence
and respect.
Planting a tree is an enormous expression of love.
You never know if you will enjoy its shade or
fruits, but you know someone will.
It’s an enormous expression of
love to the departed soul.
Truly, people don’t die here, they live an eternal
life.
It is indeed a great lesson for
me from this Maratha land!
