Mirror Lit: The Tree
View(s):
The tree stood in front of the house. Its spreading branches roofed the gravel path from the public road to the house. It sheltered the house from the sun, wind and rain. Every morning and evening, birds sang on the tree. When it flowered, the gravel path was a carpet of white fragrance. They were a splendid offering for the household’s daily religious observances.The elderly head of the house loved the tree. Every morning, he bathed and sat on the bench under the tree, soaking up the shaded sun. He was a nonagenarian and going strong. He still made decisions for the family and was their undisputed head. The family felt safe when he was in charge. He was also well versed in all manner of things, believing in nature and old traditions. People came from all over the neighbourhood to get his advice on various matters. Seated under the tree, he dispensed judicious counsel. The tree listened and rustled its approval. The family respected him greatly and showed hospitality to the advice seekers with food and drink.
The old man’s son-in-law was eager for modern comforts. He suggested that the tree be cut so that the gravel path could be widened and tarred.
“The tree blocks the sunshine to the house. It is so dark,”he argued.
The old man would have none of it. “Putha, don’t look for short-term gains. The tree will be here when I am gone. It will be a canopy for the house,” he said gently, halting his son-in-law’ plan.
One day, the old man suddenly took ill and breathed his last. The neighbours were shocked and flocked to his house to pay their last respects. The son-in- law seized his chance saying that the mourners needed a tent to sit in and the tree should be cut to make spacefor it. The family had no option but to give in to him.
The tree was sawed down, a large tent erected and the path broadened for the funeral procession. The cortage passed through the clearing made. Soon, the visitors left and the family was left to grieve on their own.
Next morning, the tent was taken down and the family sat in the house trying to come to terms with their loss. The shelter within and without was gone. Only an immense emptiness remained.
The sun beat down mercilessly on the house.
| Flash Fiction A short sory written as a sad elegy this beautifully captures a gift among the many that nature gives us that very often we – especially modern man – does not seem to understand or appreciate. Please send in your Flash Fiction entries to Madhubashini Dissanayake-Ratnayaka , The Sunday Times, No 8, Hunupitiya Cross Road Colombo 2. |
K. Liyanage