Love thy neighbours and their trees

IT is difficult to love your neighbours, and it is even more difficult to love their trees that extend their branches into your territory. A neighbour of ours bore testimony to this truism. Unwilling to reveal his name, I first thought of calling him Mr X, but later decided to refer to him aptly as Mr Vex.

Years ago, we lived in a small house with a variety of trees in Chennai.  These included an almond tree that stood close to one of the boundary walls, dropping its copper-coloured ripe leaves and pink fruit liberally on our neighbour’s property; a mango tree that reached out to his first-floor window, holding a bunch of baby mangoes in its branch-arm; a teakwood tree that shed big plate-like leaves and a magnanimous guava that lovingly showered its red-hearted fruit on the unfeeling fellow. My grandfather used to describe tree leaves that fell on our heads as a blessing from the Lord.

Our Mr Vex was made of a different stuff. He zealously guarded his borders like a BSF jawan. He would not let a butterfly cross over to his side from ours and flirt with the flowers of his solitary hibiscus plant. He would not let his wife feed the crow that lived in a nest built on one of our trees. He would not even allow our cat to walk along the compound wall abutting his property.

Our trees evoked in him a special dislike which was visible on his face. Instead of thanking our almond and mango trees for the cool shade they bestowed on his backyard, he detested them with all his small heart.

He had a special complaint against our innocent curry leaf tree whose black fruit, which looks like a small ball bearing, is relished by the koel (Indian nightingale). These birds came frequently to feast on these fruits and called loudly to each other. This drove ‘peace-loving’ Mr Vex mad.

One morning, I happened to observe him in the wee hours as he furtively emptied a basket full of dry leaves shed on his side by our trees along with trash of his own house into our side over the compound wall. When I went down and questioned him, he flew into an uncontrolled rage. “Your wretched trees graze my airconditioners and spoil them. They shed their leaves all over my place. They attract birds. Come and see the droppings on my car.  If you don’t cut the branches of your trees, I will lop off their trunks myself,” he warned me.

It seemed that he had burst like a string of crackers. His rude words and the expression on his face, distorted with unrequited hate, shocked me. Love thy neighbour, says the Bible. It is not enough to love him/her. One should also love one’s neighbour’s trees.