his time it rained heavily. There was a lot of commotion in the entire village throughout the season. Didn’t know when the rainy season ended. In people’s homes, old quilts started being spread on the cots lying in the courtyard for sunlight. In those days, the search for knowledgeable daughters-in-law for knitting and repairing new and old sweaters was in full swing. In such a situation, we all used to play hide and seek with our children, smelling the familiar smell of moisture in the quilts spread on the cot. God knows what similarity he would find in the clouds flying in the sky and the white cheeks of the cotton spread on the mat in the sun in front of his grandmother collecting new and old cotton.

The mud wall separating my courtyard from the outer courtyard had collapsed this time during the rainy season. We used to play a lot while slipping on the weathered wall. I would often consider myself a mountaineer, comparing the fallen wall to mountain peaks. Many times I would pray to God, Oh God! This wall should be left as it is. I don’t know how many scoldings all of us children would have faced while playing hide and seek, but this would have been a very small price compared to the joy found in the game. Don’t know how many imaginations surrounded me in those days.

One day I saw that a sprout had sprouted from the pile of a fallen wall. Looked carefully, it was a neem sprout. Now I had moderated my game. Whenever I got time, I would run near that growing sprout. Hours pass by without even realizing it while looking at the growing sprout. As soon as he came back from school, he would throw his bag and reach there first. I would take special care that no one plucks that small neem tree. There was never any need to irrigate. Just playing hide and seek in childhood, I didn’t realize when that tree and I grew up.

Amma used to offer him a pot of water after morning puja. ‘The goddess resides in the Neem tree’ he told me one day. Whenever I looked towards the Neem tree in my free moments, it seemed to be talking to me by shaking its branches. Sometimes I feel like he remembers everything about my childhood. Often he would express his happiness to me by swinging his arms.

There are borewells in the fields. Indiscriminate water exploitation continues. Not like before, keep barking till behind the two bulls and then sing ‘Kare Badara Kare Badara Paani To Barsa Re’ with the drum. Farmers, farming and villages of today’s generation are all modern.

Time passes, it doesn’t take long. After finishing school, I came to the city to study in college. Gradually the house started becoming deserted; Amma left even before grandmother. Now grandmother used to pour water on the neem tree sometimes. Due to frequent shaving, my beard hair started becoming hard. Besides, the bark of the neem tree had also become hard. One day grandmother also fell into eternal sleep under the neem tree. After leaving the mud walls, closet and grandmother along with everyone, new daughters-in-law had come into the house. One by one all the kutcha walls became concrete. Now no one used to water the neem tree. Only grandfather’s cot would have been lying under the neem tree. It seems as if he too had taken undeclared retirement. Now I no longer had any old companion in the house except the Neem tree.

Whenever I went to the village during holidays, I used to lie down in the shade of a Neem tree. I used to think the neem tree and I could talk to each other. He seemed to be talking to me about many old things while shaking his legs and swinging his arms.

Now the generations were also changing in the new house of solid walls with a solid courtyard. The number of children had increased significantly. Would often swing on the branches of the Neem tree. When needed, wood would also be cut down. Whenever I reached the village from the city during holidays, Neem used to tell me his silent story. I often say that now even Babuji doesn’t say anything to anyone. The platform surrounding the trunk which we used to keep clean by painting it with colors for Holi and Diwali, was now a heap of desolate mud. Babuji’s cow ‘Shyam’ remained tied to the empty trunk. The neem tree gave it shade and the cow provided fertilizer to each other. Now no one cares about trees. But Neem continued to bear everything silently. After all he was born in this house. He considered himself a part of the family. Every autumn, after all the leaves fall, new shoots emerge and the tree becomes green again. Often, seeing the small children of the family giggling under him, he would express his happiness by dancing in the air with the Niboris. All he had to share in the family was a far-stretched shadow and a lot of happiness. And then one day Babu ji also slept under its shadow forever. The cow and the neem tree just kept looking at each other silently. No one paid attention to the tears flowing from the cow’s eyes and the silence spread under the neem tree.

Those swings, those swinging talks with the rustling wind, nothing could attract anyone. Oh man, there is no gratitude anywhere. My last friend also left. After all, why don’t trees and plants have the right to live a full life like humans?

A new era came with the entry of TV and tractors in the village. The number of animals started decreasing. Now there is no cow in the house. Who picks up cow dung, what if he gets tetanus…? Today’s people know everything. The tree remains sad now. Whenever smoke comes out of the tractor parked in its shadow, he feels suffocated. This time, after autumn, two of its branches did not sprout small shoots. Both the neem branches dried up. Perhaps the water level under the ground has gone down considerably. There are borewells in the fields. Indiscriminate water exploitation continues. Not like before, keep barking till behind the two bulls and then sing ‘Kare Badara Kare Badara Paani To Barsa Re’ with the drum. Farmers, farming and villages of today’s generation are all modern.

So… why did the Neem seeds dry up? No one paid attention. Yes, one day laborers were called and both the branches were cut. This time when he went to the village, Neem felt sad like an armless man. The tree that swayed with the wind and talked to me just stood there silently, like a stump. Everything felt unexpected.

This time no one had returned from the village with any new enthusiasm or energy. Even after coming back to the hectic life of the city, that armless tree was not forgotten by my eyes. There was always something nagging somewhere. In the office and at home, everything seemed deserted. Looks like some accident has happened in life. I didn’t feel like agreeing, took leave within a fortnight and returned back to the village.

As soon as I reached the village, a scene beyond my imagination was in front of me. The neem tree was completely cut down. I don’t even have any news. Perhaps there was no need for this. I was shocked. I didn’t understand what to say to whom. Where once there used to be a full Neem tree, there was now a pit. Small pieces of the stem, broken by the blow of the axe, were scattered all around. Like the mortal remains of a warrior who was martyred while fighting on the battlefield. But this was not a war. With restlessness he went near the roots of the tree. Saw that even after weeks, water was still leaking from the remains of roots that had frozen over years. I felt as if this house was not mine. In this house, the symbol of my childhood was my childhood companion, this tree itself. It seems there is no companion, no identity here now. The mud walls, that room of my childhood, my mother, grandmother, grandfather all had gone away one by one. But this tree was not dead. I knew that he would wait for my every leave till my last breath. But the new generation needed the same land where this unfortunate tree stood to build the house of their choice.

Neem was evicted for his needs. What was his crime? The people who occupy the land, including streets, footpaths and even crematoriums, demand compensation from the person who evicts them. But today in the same civilized society the Neem tree has been removed from its land for its own needs…. removed …. No not disconnected. Isn’t this his murder? There is no hearing anywhere. In a society that advocates ancestral rights, will the ancestors who plant and water trees have to make a will that after them, it will be the responsibility of the inheritor of their property to protect the trees and plants planted by them? Along with his children, don’t humans also take care of trees and plants like children?

Those swings, those swinging talks with the rustling wind, nothing could attract anyone. Hey human! No gratitude anywhere. My last friend also left. After all, why do plants not have the right to live a full life like humans?

It seems my whole body is becoming relaxed. Will these people also remove me from their path if my weak body comes in the way of their needs? The water coming out of the neem roots were his tears. Perhaps in his last moments he might have remembered me and wished that I, his childhood friend, could have protected him. But this did not happen. I could not discharge my duty towards him. The heart is torn and the tears in the eyes cannot stop now. My companion, my best friend, is gone. I feel like someone is shaking me.

‘Hey, won’t you get up?’ I wake up from my wife’s voice. She keeps the cup of tea on a nearby table. I wake up and get up. It seems the pillow has become wet from the corner of my eyes.
‘Don’t you want to go to office today?’ She asks again while placing the shaving stuff on the table.
‘We are going to the village this evening. You make preparations’ I say, ignoring his words.
‘Have you had any terrible dreams? His attention goes to the wet corners of my eyes.

With sudden decision she keeps staring at me. But I know that I have to go to the village and make