THE
MULBERRY TREE.....
A Witness to times gone by and Something that was always around.
A tree that gave soft and shining silk to us. A silent Darvesh in the Dargaah
compound. .A feeling of some omnipresent spiritual entity. In winters, an all
observing naked Faquir.
Is it Kalpavriksha? A Kalpatru that gives itself completely for
the service of the mankind .
A tree that
offers its branches for the yagneopavit ( Sacred Thread Ceremony in A Kashmiri
Pandit Family ) ceremony. Its tender branches are also used for decorating the
Coffin box used for carrying the dead to the crematorium. A trusted companion
in our last journey. Silkworms feed on its green leaves. It offers its trunk
for furniture and at times as General timber. sometimes, its thick branches are
used to hold tools and implements made of iron.
O those Votive
Threads( wishing strings) around it's slender trunk or branches.
Tu'l , It's
fruit , so sweet , juicy and full of medicinal properties. Tu'l, Sometimes red,
sometimes Pink, sometimes black and a few times snow-white. And the yummy yummy
Jam made from this fruit.
But then
suddenly, we turned ungrateful and unkind to it. Did we forget the Too't or
Shahtoo't of our childhood days ?
I add lines
from a poem of noted Kashmiri poetess Naseem Shafai translated to English by
Prof. Neerja Mattoo....
When you walk in the shade of that old Mulberry ,
Go and tie a wishing string round it,
It stands as witness to times gone by,
The only memento our forefathers left.
Go and tie a wishing string round it,
It stands as witness to times gone by,
The only memento our forefathers left.
It was in it's shade that granny spun
And sang Gazals of love so sweet.
It was here she mixed curd and rice,
And fed us, narrating ancient tales.
And sang Gazals of love so sweet.
It was here she mixed curd and rice,
And fed us, narrating ancient tales.
Through the sieve of it's branches and leaves,
Tempered and cooled, sunshine came down.
How many a tangled web of fate
Was sorted out in it's very shade !
Tempered and cooled, sunshine came down.
How many a tangled web of fate
Was sorted out in it's very shade !
How many a season, How much time,
It Saw and bore through all these years !
One Branch dying, Another born,
But still the lamps are lit at it's feet.
It Saw and bore through all these years !
One Branch dying, Another born,
But still the lamps are lit at it's feet.
(Autar Mota)
Based on a work at http:\\autarmota.blogspot.com\.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.