The neem tree with bounties galore
THAT day, my happiness knew no bounds. I could hardly believe that the neem I planted many years ago had grown into a huge tree. As I spent a few minutes under its shadow without informing the occupant of the house, I prayed to the Almighty to give wisdom to the people who did not hesitate to fell trees on one pretext or the other. Such people, sadly, do not realise that trees give human beings a lot, while demanding virtually nothing from us.
I was back to City Beautiful, where I had spent my entire working life, after an unusually long gap owing to various reasons. As I reached near the tree, I felt like being greeted by it with folded hands: ‘Hello sir, how are you? Where were you all these years? I had been wondering where the person responsible for my existence had gone.’
I could feel the tree telling me that ‘my new master is also fond of me, as caring as you were.’It appeared to be asking me, ‘Where is the maali (gardener) whose nimble fingers caressed me when I was too young to face the vagaries of the weather?’
Moti Lal, a villager from Amethi in Uttar Pradesh’s Sultanpur district, had suggested to me to prefer a neem to fulfil my desire for planting a tree in front of the house allotted to me by the institution with which I had been associated during my entire career — from the time when I was in my twenties to my superannuation.
I valued Moti Lal’s advice as he was a very experienced person. He told me that planting a neem tree (Azadirachta indica) was like setting up a pharmacy. Perhaps, he had learnt it from an ayurvedacharya that every part of the neem — its branches, leaves, fruit, etc. — had medicinal properties. Neem works as an air purifier during the night by absorbing carbon dioxide. After getting free from his assignment — the planting of the tree — he told me, ‘Sahib, kuchh muhn meetha karaiye’ (Now we should have some sweets). He wanted to celebrate the occasion with sweets, but I could treat him with tea and biscuits only, apologising that I had no sweets in my house.
I have another pleasant memory associated with the neem tree. During my childhood days spent in a village, I, along with two other students, went to our class teacher to know our Class VIII board exam result one summer afternoon. We found him taking a nap under a neem tree. The class teacher, fondly called Yadavji, informed us that we had cleared the exam but in the second division.
He told us in his own polite way to work harder than we had so that in the next board exam (the matriculation exam) we could get a better score to be placed in the first division, though it was a Herculean task for village children during those difficult times.
