Holding hands deep under the cold layers of the earth, we could feel it rumble. We knew not just what had been brewing but also why. It was just a matter of time.
Days back in the warmth of the sun, the surface above was teeming with life. Pilgrims in thousands visited the shrine, across the holy river. A cacophony of monkeys hopping around with sweet offerings, abruptly intercepted by the chirping of birds who would start singing in chorus at the morning Azan, gradually fading with the Aarti at sunset.
It was the same beautiful routine, each day for me, and for him. He wouldn’t miss visiting me since that day.
Prateek was eight, when we first met. While his mates and their families indulged in the rituals at the shrine, he would sit next to me and play with bright colourful marbles. A mesmerising kaleidoscope of colours bounced around my canopy.
That day, perturbed, he sat next to me sobbing. “How can baba do this? Am I not his child? Just because I failed, does that warrant sending me back to the village?” he murmured to himself.
Then, to my surprise, he looked at me.
“I know you can see and hear everything. Can’t you save me? Or don’t you care either?” he cried.
I cared immensely. And the very thought of losing him was unsettling. I dropped a leaf. It landed on his shoulder. Gently he kept the leaf in his pocket and hugged me.
The next day I saw him elated! His father had decided not to send him after all. And since that day, he visited me religiously.
Recently, Prateek moved to a city upstream where big corporations had been clearing land, killing my folks relentlessly. Little did they know, we had held the earth together for centuries, not letting it break even when the core shook.
It had been raining for the past few weeks. The water had started to rise. And then, it happened.
With loud thunder and roar, we saw it charge towards us. Raging deluge with muddy swirls breaking seemingly immovable objects that came in its path. Gushing and roaring, wave after wave, overpowered shrieks and cries of people around.
And then horror struck. I saw Prateek, in the middle of the turbulent river waving his hand every now and then, crying for help.
I had to do something. Gathering all my strength, I bent in the direction of the water flow. My roots cracking as I released my hold off the ground.
Partly submerged, our destinies were now at the mercy of the river. Shortly after, I felt him as he held me, and then wrapped himself around me. I tried to keep him above water as we were tossed around blind with the currents.
After what felt like hours of struggle, we slowed down and drifted ashore. He got up and looked at me. He knew it was time to say goodbye. Slowly, he released me back in the river. Drifting away I kept looking at him before he vanished before my eyes.
