Bare & Beautiful
The trees have all shed their leaves; they are stark naked. In their bareness is beauty, true beauty! The beauty of a babe, a new born in all his innocence and purity as the Almighty created him and meant him to be – a mirror image of himself.
The trees, they stand tall, bare, showing off their sinewy curves and nerves, daring, challenging boldly, shouting aloud in their silence, that they have nothing to hide! To me they are the babies, honest and lovable with nothing to conceal. They let out a little wail, a wail of joy, happy at their new found freedom, knowing they have nothing to hide!
Gradually wee fingers of maroon-red slowly but steadily emerge from the several curvy channels of the nude trees. There is yet beauty in this new hue. But I perceive something more and apart from the beauty of this new color. I sense the first blush of the just-born infant. His blush of shame when he is gently clothed for the first time since his grand entry into this world! Shame, for having donned his first mask, a mask that is distorting his mirror image, detracting him and distancing him from his Lord, his Creator. He lets out a weak wail in protest. He is hugged and soothed. He is given his due share and convincingly too. He’s appeased and he coils cozily back into his new cocoon, his feeling of shame assuaged.
The leaves on the trees are still changing color. The maroon-red is now there only in patches. The trees are getting draped in tender light greens and appear lush and thriving in their new attire.
The new born has grown into a bubbly toddler, ready to assume the mantle of a go-getter. He is getting ready to wield his power, to ‘compete’, to ‘beat’ to become …. Envy is yet alien to him, but he learns that unless he beats, kicks, thrashes, he will not get what he wants. And his wants, they are getting larger and more desperate by the day. He has to possess what his friend, his neighbour has. But he’s still green, much of his innocence intact and he has detracted little from his God. He smiles sheepishly, perhaps even a bit roguishly, at his display of tantrums and unfairness.
The lush garbs are acquiring a deeper overtone and the trees are becoming darker with each passing day. The babe, the toddler is now a young child, soon growing to become an adolescent, on the threshold of adulthood. He is growing, adapting, learning the tricks of the trade, absorbing as much as he can, at an alarmingly brisk pace. His ‘wish-list’ is expanding, the sky is the limit for his wants, his senses and sensibilities are becoming hopelessly warped in greed and jealousy. He is getting firmly clasped by the vicious tongs of ‘civilization’. He is competing more fiercely than ever with his own brother, willing himself to outdo, outclass, outperform, even if it means taking recourse to the illegal, unethical and the immoral.
The green of the trees is dark, brooding and threatening. The leaves have lost their tenderness, they’ve even become brittle. Their smoothness, elasticity and freshness have gone. They’ve journeyed too long, too far, to get back their original hue and texture.
The man, deep in the arms of avarice, clutched suffocatingly by burning envy, his ego inflated, is showing signs of weakening, of fatigue. He is weighed down by the burden of his own thoughts, his actions, his nature, his character, his life – he has come so far away from his Lord. He is slowly awakening to the harsh reality, to the Truth. He realizes he has deluded himself to live in a world of illusions. The masks are all peeling, falling one after the other; his dreams are shattered. He has become a burden unto himself – forget the mirror-image of the Omnipresent. He can no longer bear to look at himself in the mirror. Guilt and shame weigh him down. He has lived in vain.
The deep greens have become so brittle that they’re cracking up. They are even acquiring an earthy brown tinge. Soon they are crackling and getting dismembered from their branches. There’s a whisper, a rustle, as they gently touch terra firma. A caressing breeze transports these weary travelers a little further before they crack up completely and lie vanquished. Only to find their Nirvana in Mother Earth, burying themselves in the deep recesses of her warm lap. The tree is yet again bereft of its cloak. It is revealing and stands tall once again, relieved that it has nothing more to hide!
