Beneath The Gulmohar Tree

Gulmohar trees always fascinated Rahul.
The first one he knew of was the one that stood near the gate of his school. As a kid it was his best friend. He always used to linger around that tree - Picking flowers that were on the ground, sitting in the shade, running around and even lying by the side.

Those days are long gone. Now he is married, has a good job, and is living far away from his homeland.

As he stopped on the signal, few kilometers away from his house, he could not resist the temptation within to look at the gulmohar tree on the right side of the road. Trees itself are a rare sight in the metros, and that too a Gulmohar! He always used to look at it whenever he stopped at that signal. It had a soothing effect. It inspired him – The way it has been taking all the pollution, the dust, the smoke and still standing upright, it amazed him. He always wanted to be the same – surviving against all odds; Beating everything that is thrown at him.

Today he spotted something beneath the tree. It is a woman. Not a normal woman that he saw in his office or home – this woman was totally different. Draped in a dirty saree and with hair that seemed like it had not seen water for years, she was one among the street roaming beggar women which are a very common site in the metros. And he did not like them as all the other common men. McDonalds’ and the KFCs and other similar franchisees instruct the securities to shoo them away when they start asking the customers for money. He had seen all that. He never turned and looked at them, but this woman had something special – or so he felt. Is it because she was sitting under the gulmohar tree?

His mind started the travel – back in time. To the good old school days- The high school days. His first love. The girl he always used to meet under the gulmohar tree, the girl with whom he shared his silly stories. The girl who gave him his first Christmas card and the memories went on and on and on. He felt that it was the only thing worth remembering from his school days.
And then finally the bitter memories started popping out – The day his teacher found him talking with her under the gulmohar tree, the subsequent questioning, the tears, the scolding, herself speaking the truth and then what did he do? He felt so helpless, small and weak. He did not speak anything. He looked at her face once. And he saw the eyes brimming with hope. The hope that he will stand up for her. But he did not. He was confused – studies, parents, relatives on one side, the first girl in his life on the other – the choice was never his. He was too young to make a choice.

And gradually it faded away. Even a smile was hard to come by for the few days of schooling that remained. He did not know what she felt, she never spoke about it.

And then, they both headed down the busy lane of life in opposite directions – bruised and hurt within. Other friends kept in touch for a few more months. He learnt her whereabouts from some of them. And finally the phone calls and the letters dried up. He lost contact with all of them.

And many years later, he learnt from an old friend that she had eloped with her lover and since both of them were from different religion, they were not accepted in their families. Now no one knew where they had gone.

Could this be her? Or is it just his mind playing games with him? He felt confused once again, as confused as a chameleon in a bag of Skittles.

And as he was lost in his thoughts, he heard his wife saying – “chalo baba, signal is green”
And as he drove off, he mustered the courage to have one last look at the women under the gulmohar tree – and saw the same eyes, brimming with hope!