I see that the tree near my home is balding and drying.
Unlike things that have passed and are beyond changing, I can see it.
I took a photograph of it. Someday when I have the time I will print a picture of it and stick it on my wall. Though it has none of the green vibrant leaves of its youth, none of the strength it loaned me before, no more of the green that I so loved of it, I do care for the tree in a weird, detached way.
Was it just the leaves and the colour that I loved about the tree? No, of course not.
(i see myself in that tree)
I remember when the government first put a sapling into the ground near my home.
It was so alone, flanked by giants that had already taken full control of the earth around it.
Remember the first few months that it was there in the ground, silently as the two other choked it, slowly, slowly it dried it was dying but we didn’t give up on it.
Every day, we watered it.
Watered it even when it was just a single leaf on one of three bare branches.
Father said it would die.
Well it didn’t.
It recovered, regained its footing.
One leaf became two, became three, multiplied till it was green again – verdant bloom leaves shining with such vigour as if it was a waxy-leafed plant but it wasn’t.
It was a tad lighter, but in the light, it glowed in comparison to the trees by its side.
Whenever I looked at it I saw the light, saw a light I could never see looking up at the trees by its side.
It’s not very big still, nowhere near as big as the ones by its side but instead of smothering it, now those trees protect it. It grew big enough to reap internal economies of scale, it’s on the left of the long-run-average-cost curve.
But that’s not this tree.
(I want to be that tree)
I brought a pot of basil home from my grandparents’ home.
Grasshoppers love it.
I love it too.
But I forget to water it sometimes, and so does the rain.
Basil is very forgiving, or maybe it’s just determined to leaf(live).
5 stalks became none then now 1 is clinging on.
(Oh, I forgot to water it today.)
I keep thinking I will remember later, later, later, later but the truth is when the light comes out again then I don’t do it anymore and I make no more apologies because those are empty.
Also, we eat basil.
Basil which gives up its leaves in exchange for an offer of protection – alas what a pitiful protector Basil got this time round.
Just as well, I don’t cook much with basil anyway.
(I don’t want to be basil.
I don’t think I can cling to life like that with the odds mostly stacked against me, but if pushed, would I fight that good fight?
I will fight that good fight but I will eventually lay down my arms.)
If you throw away your morals then can you call that value/maxim/motto yours?
What if you temporarily compromise because of another?
How do you rank the values to you in order of importance?
Can I say that it was just for a while, just this once and I will never allow myself to be put in such a situation again?
That is a lie.
I am afraid of needing to compromise again and again because I don’t want to.
(To some extent I must have wanted to, to the same extent that I was unable to say no.)
I remember that I am guilty.
If pressed to confess yet I say no because I dig not only my grave but the other’s as well.
It is their fault that they pressed, but it is mine that I compromised.
I want to say no now.
I want to quit.
I would stop this compromise but their actions have compromised me.
In such a situation, what do I do?
The tree and that tree are different things.
I am the tree.
That is the tree I want to be.
It was a week since I knew,
something went wrong,
held my tongue since I didn’t want to be blue,
saw that I guessed too right then wanted to be wrong,
then I realised you knew all along.
Knew you were wrong and
must have thought it bad,
everytime I question marked and
you cancelled it right back.
Things came to a head and I
spoke up, stated fact
the moment you laughed,
I knew that was that.
We aren’t even through,
how I dread the act.
I can’t look my friend in the eye,
we made plans so far back.
Because of you I discard that, now wrecked.
I don’t know if you’ll appreciate that,
you never asked me to,
yet I can’t help but feel,
this is better for you,
not me of course,
but I’m not blue.
note: Chapati does not taste very good with cheese.