Grandparents

There was a village amidst the mountains. Total population would not have been more than couple of hundred. It was like a family living in harmony since generations.

Witness to all these years was a banyan tree. None knew exactly how old it was. Prevalent folklore varied its age from thousands to millions of years. All sorts of carvings could be made out from its trunk. Some looked prehistoric, some recent. The tree was so spread out that it acted like a city centre. Everyone hung out, celebrated festivals under it. It was an integral part of village life; a group of happy populous.

One morning people woke up to something. It was a windy day alright; but apart from sand and dust, there was something else in the air. Thousands of banyan leaves were flying around. Whole village soon gathered underneath the tree. It had lost half of its leaves overnight. The freshness of the morning soon turned into realization of a shock.

The tree was dying. The suddenness of the situation was more than anyone could handle. Ladies started weeping. Men could hardly speak. They prayed, pleaded with their Gods. Every avenue possible was explored but to no avail. It was two weeks when the last of the leaf was seen. It was now a dead wood. The life was not the same anymore.

Suddenly the sun seemed hotter, rains heavier and stars aplenty. Years went by and the tales about the age of the tree changed into tales about existence of it. People started to live indoors. There were no community gatherings anymore. It was like the societal fiber just vanished, the thread broken, the elastic snapped.

Similar is the impact of elders in a home. Grandparents we call them. No one knows how old the grandmother is. She was born this old, with wrinkles, for all we know. Nobody knows from where the wisdom of Grandfather comes from. He is The Britannica for all we know.

They are the root that symbolizes the family and keeps everyone together. Once they leave, the sons/daughters become a self existent entity. The family gatherings become less. The circle of life springs into action. Each of those offshoots starts their own family, become old to be called grandparents themselves. The vacuum remains but the life moves on.

Soon number of trees cropped up under the dead root. The city centre was vibrant again. The banyan tree gave way to multitude of trees. New fruits and new flowers; New pours and new showers.