Why is a tree in Arbaz's courtyard so dear to him? Let's read and find out!
One day, when Arbaz was six , he walked home from the Massoorie bazaar eating cherries. They were a little sweet, a little sour. They were small bright red cherries, all the way from the velley of kashmir.
By the time Arbaz reached his Grandfather's cottage, there were three cherries left. Have a cherry, Dada,'' he said to his Grandfather in the garden.
Grandfather took a cherry and Arbaz promptly ate the other two. He kept the last cherry stone in his mouth for a long time, rolling it on his tongue until the tang had gone. Then, he placed the stone on the palm of his hand and studied it.
Are cherry stones lucky? he asked.
Of course, '' said Grandfather.
Then I will keep it.
Nothing is lucky if you put it away. You must make it work for you.
What can I do with a cherry stone?
Plant it!"
Arbaz went to a corner of the garden where the earth was soft and yielding and pressed the seed into the soil with his thumb. It went right in.
One spring morning, Arbaz bent to pick up what he thought was a small twing in the garden and found it was rooted. He stared at it for a moment and then ran to fetch Grandfather, calling, '' Dada, come and look. The cherry tree has come up!
Grandfather bent almost double to peer down at the tiny tree. It was about four inches high. Yes, it's a cherry tree, said Grandfather. You should water it now and then. That year the monsoon came early and Arbaz plodded to and fro from school in raincoat and boots. Even when it was not raining, the trees dripped and mist came curling up the valley. The cherry tree grew quickly.
It was about two feet high, when a goat entered the garden and ate the leaves. Only the main stem and two thin branches remained.
Never mind, said Grandfather, seeing that Arbaz was upset, it will grow again. Cherry trees are tough.
Towards the end of the rainy season, new leaves appeared on the cherry tree. Then, a woman cutting grass stumbled down the hillside, her scythe swishing through the foliage. One sweep and the young tree was chopped in half.
"Will it die?" asked Arbaz.
It might, admitted Grandfather.
But the tree had no intention of dying. By the time summer came round again, it had sent out several new suits . Even when there was rain , Arbaz would some time water the tree . He wanted eat to know that he was there . One day, he found a caterpillar on the tree eating the leaves. He removed it quickly and dropped it over the wall . Come back when you are a butterfly.,he said.
That February,it Arbaz's birthday Arbaaz birthday. He was mine and the tree was three but almost as tall as the boy.one sunny morning ,grandfather came in to the garden to bask. "Let some warmth get in to my old bones",as he put it. He stopped in front of the cherry tree, started at it for a few moments and then called out, "Arbaz , come and look. "
Arbaz dashed over to see a pale, pink blossom at the end of a branch. They gazed at this little miracle.
One afternoon, Arbaz went to the garden and lay down on the grass beneath the tree. He gazed up through the leaves at the blue dome of the sky. He could see the mountain striding away into the clouds. He was still lying beneath the tree when the evening shadows crept across the garden. Grandfather came and sat down and they waited in silence until the stars came out.
There are many trees in the forest, said Arbaz, wha's so special about this one, Dada? Why do we like it so much?
We grew it ourselves, said Grandfather.
Just one small seed, said Arbaz and he touched the smooth bark of the tree he had grown. He ran his hand along the branch and put his finger to the tip of a leaf.I wonder, he said to himself, is this what it feels like to be God?
Grandfather took a cherry and Arbaz promptly ate the other two. He kept the last cherry stone in his mouth for a long time, rolling it on his tongue until the tang had gone. Then, he placed the stone on the palm of his hand and studied it.
Are cherry stones lucky? he asked.
Of course, '' said Grandfather.
Then I will keep it.
Nothing is lucky if you put it away. You must make it work for you.
What can I do with a cherry stone?
Plant it!"
Arbaz went to a corner of the garden where the earth was soft and yielding and pressed the seed into the soil with his thumb. It went right in.
One spring morning, Arbaz bent to pick up what he thought was a small twing in the garden and found it was rooted. He stared at it for a moment and then ran to fetch Grandfather, calling, '' Dada, come and look. The cherry tree has come up!
Grandfather bent almost double to peer down at the tiny tree. It was about four inches high. Yes, it's a cherry tree, said Grandfather. You should water it now and then. That year the monsoon came early and Arbaz plodded to and fro from school in raincoat and boots. Even when it was not raining, the trees dripped and mist came curling up the valley. The cherry tree grew quickly.
It was about two feet high, when a goat entered the garden and ate the leaves. Only the main stem and two thin branches remained.
Never mind, said Grandfather, seeing that Arbaz was upset, it will grow again. Cherry trees are tough.
Towards the end of the rainy season, new leaves appeared on the cherry tree. Then, a woman cutting grass stumbled down the hillside, her scythe swishing through the foliage. One sweep and the young tree was chopped in half.
"Will it die?" asked Arbaz.
It might, admitted Grandfather.
But the tree had no intention of dying. By the time summer came round again, it had sent out several new suits . Even when there was rain , Arbaz would some time water the tree . He wanted eat to know that he was there . One day, he found a caterpillar on the tree eating the leaves. He removed it quickly and dropped it over the wall . Come back when you are a butterfly.,he said.
That February,it Arbaz's birthday Arbaaz birthday. He was mine and the tree was three but almost as tall as the boy.one sunny morning ,grandfather came in to the garden to bask. "Let some warmth get in to my old bones",as he put it. He stopped in front of the cherry tree, started at it for a few moments and then called out, "Arbaz , come and look. "
Arbaz dashed over to see a pale, pink blossom at the end of a branch. They gazed at this little miracle.
One afternoon, Arbaz went to the garden and lay down on the grass beneath the tree. He gazed up through the leaves at the blue dome of the sky. He could see the mountain striding away into the clouds. He was still lying beneath the tree when the evening shadows crept across the garden. Grandfather came and sat down and they waited in silence until the stars came out.
There are many trees in the forest, said Arbaz, wha's so special about this one, Dada? Why do we like it so much?
We grew it ourselves, said Grandfather.
Just one small seed, said Arbaz and he touched the smooth bark of the tree he had grown. He ran his hand along the branch and put his finger to the tip of a leaf.I wonder, he said to himself, is this what it feels like to be God?
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