People don’t die here, they live an eternal life

The Buddhist shrine caves on the outskirts of Aurangabad city is one of the least popular tourist attractions when compared to Ajanta and Ellora caves. This sixth-century rock-cut caves are located in the Sihaychal ranges depicting the teachings of Buddha. I was trekking alone to this cave shrines on a Sunday morning.  While descending, I found a gentleman in mid-fifties carrying a 50-liter water can on his shoulder and walking in the tree woods. A girl was following the gentleman in the deep woods. I was observing them closely, and as always curious to know, where are they heading with so much water in this no-man’s-land.

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!