By Anubhav Gupta
And the hand planted me long back
In the soil-moist and comfortable.
I grew amongst you, watching the world go by.
Some stared, others touched.
The touch of the human hand was not new.
I saw the world tumble and jumble
As I stood and grew.
I still stand lonely-and happy.
Alone, and happy.
I am only a witness, I am told.
My brothers are gone, lost in a haze of dust.
I remain-the silent witness of time:
Of autumns and winters,
Of my growth and your downfall,
Of your rise and my fall.
These are the rules of nature, I am told.
I am the same-
Where the young father once sat with his son,
Teaching him the game of life.
Where an aged lady knitted warmth
For her grandson.
I reached to touch her-ah, so lovely!
I smiled in delight.
But not all days are so.
I am still the same-
The one on which Christ was crucified.
They cut me first, then hammered him.
It bled-I tell you, it bled.
Do not ask me.
I am the same.
Under my shade she waited for him to return.
He never did.
She is still there.
I am still the same.
The Lord of the rays filters through me,
And I shine like crystal-emerald, gold, and sapphire.
I give shelter to the tiny: the ant and the sapling.
Together, they live-under my witness.
Under me Krishna sat,
Playing his flute for his beloved.
Radha danced here-her anklets are still safe with me.
Under me, lovers unite in passion.
But I am attached to none.
I am only a witness.
As the ages passed,
I grew-deep, dark, and lovely.
Rich with life and memory.
Then time stood still.
I have seen many revolutions,
But none like this.
The British came-and they hanged three.
Men in wardi.
Forgive me, for I could do nothing.
I am only a witness, I am told.
That is the law of nature.
Those who seek, find refuge-
My shade, my cool, my comfort.
For I remember the hand that planted me-
It was just the same.
The clouds roar, the winds blow
Usually friends, sometimes foes.
Yet the children who play in my shade
Make me want to stay.
If you cut me, I bleed-
Bleed with anguish, for I could give you more.
But I am not to yell, I am told.
I fuel your fires, cook your meals,
Burn your dead, and become your coal.
I am not to shout-ever in my life, I am told.
When the first pair of mynahs perched,
They made their home
And when their bundle of joy arrived,
It was a pleasure to provide.
I witnessed their joy.
She said to me,
“Thanks, dear. You’ve been with me.”
When the autumn fire broke,
I asked her to fly away.
She replied,
“I grew with you.
I made my home on you.
So today, I’ll burn with you.”
And she turned to ash.
I was just as silent.
I am only a witness, I am told.
The little child who once grew with me
Has grown-deep, dark, and big.
Lovely!
He came, he sat, he thought.
He lifted his hand-and the machines came.
They told me a mall is being built.
I have to go.
Till yesterday, I stood-
Bearing fruit, giving shade, standing tall.
Today, I am left in the middle-
Cut to face the cold.
This is the law of nature, I am told:
Every witness must die
To make way for the new.