“When it’s over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement.”
Mary Oliver
A topsy-turvy world. We became denizens of it in March 2020. What was abnormal was normal and the new normal ensconced itself in our lives quite comfortably. The mundane and the banal, what we were quite blasé about earlier, took a new turn with the pandemic.
Being homebound we made ourselves comfortable in our respective corners and continued work. Mine was the bureau in our study next to a large window with an expansive view of the jackfruit, mango and moringa trees in our garden. The Moringa is the closest. As the new normal settled in, I became more attuned to the language of those things which didn’t speak to me earlier. As we felt hemmed in by the threat that loomed outside, we figured out our sources of solace which would soothe us. For me, the window became a portal to the natural world, which, devoid of human activities, was blooming and flourishing. Never have I ever allowed my mind to wander and gaze at a so-called ordinary tree. Soft wooded, slender with drooping branches, with leaves that are neither thick nor velvety like the jackfruit nor paisley shaped like the mango. Nothing extraordinary about this lean and lanky moringa tree till it stumped me the morning after the April cyclone. Still standing tall, simply bent a bit.
Moringa at the Window
Since then, this tree has become a symbol of hope, renewal, of the eternal cycle of life. From a bare tree, bereft of embellishments of leaves, I watched as the first few sprigs of green peeked from one of the branches. I watched as myriad shades of green enveloped each branch. As days went by the entire tree was resplendent in its green cloak. At dusk, as I wrapped up work, part of the tree would take on a golden hue with the setting sun and the rest, rich, emerald green. As months passed, clusters of tiny white flowers emerged and first came the butterflies. Circling the tree, almost always in pairs. Tiny white ones on the right, yellow on the left and pirouetting near the crown, a pair with gorgeous orange and black wings. Next came the honeybees. Buzzing bonhomie, sharing resources, flitting from one flower to another, this entomophilous tree was swathed by these pollinators. To join the party, orioles, Rufus treepies, woodpeckers and bulbuls hopped in too. The latter is always in pairs. One fine morning I found squirrels stuffing their faces with the flowers. A rare sight to behold! A delectable breakfast for them I understood. It was a busy season with a constant influx of visitors flying or scurrying in and out.
Oriole, Rufus Treepie and Squirrel: visitors on the Moringa tree
The tree grew quiet once the gatherers left and the drumsticks appeared. Our gardener plucked these and it found a way to nourish us. Lightly sautéed moringa leaves too found a place on our table. Lots were distributed to neighbours, family and friends.
This tree nourished so many, spread the seeds of life and was a constant source of joy. My voiceless companion, my kin tree spoke the story of earth and evoked wonder and awe in us. Something so healing in the repeated refrains of nature. Like Philip Larkin, the tree seems to now say ‘Last year is dead, begin afresh.’
Rachel Carson, a nature conservationist said, “One way to open your eyes into unnoticed beauty is to ask yourself, ‘What if I had never seen this before?'”
All photos by Mohua Chatterjee.
About the author: Mohua Chatterjee is a naturalist, a Communications consultant, a learning and development trainer, a poet, a singer and a bibliophile. She believes that immersing ourselves in nature can help keep the wonder and awe alive in our lives.
