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1
Taru kept glancing at the blue sky as if willing it to become shades of orange and yellow. Like each day, she waited for the sun to settle on the western horizon, longing for the only time that held any interest to her. Taru often wondered about this anomaly inside her. She was not supposed to be partial to the part of the day when sunlight receded. Something was wrong with her. She had no idea whether this defect had been with her since birth or was something she'd picked up along the way. It had been so long now that everything in the distant past had become a blur to find any answers. Trying to remember anything felt like looking backwards through an oily, stained, and cracked window to read a guidepost a mile away. Her neck began to hurt thinking about it as she shuddered in the faint waft of freezing air.
No, Taru told herself. Apart from the obvious, there was no other reason behind it. It had nothing to do with any defect. It had everything to do with her friend. Her only friend.
Maya will be here any moment now. There was a hint of giddiness in her anticipation. But there was a sense of certitude in it as well. After all, she had known Maya for almost a decade now. Maya was only seven years old the day she changed Taru’s world. And she had never missed a single day of their companionship since.
Just a little child back then, she fondly recalled.
She could remember it like it happened yesterday. It was spring, her favorite season. The sun was about to set and there was a gentle breeze, as Maya walked past the thickets from the direction of the village with little steps. She was wearing a small tattered dress that defiantly tried to hold on to its time-worn whiteness against the soot and grime. She carried a glass of water in her outstretched little hands, concentrating not to spill a single drop.
Maya stopped in front of Taru, looked up, smiled, and poured some of the water near Taru’s roots. Her eyes were twinkling with wonder and excitement as she stood straight and started to talk.
“Hello, tree. My name is Maya. I’m from the village over there.” Maya pointed towards the narrow street past the shrubbery that ran along the sparse forest. “You can’t see our house from here because of the other trees. Are they your friends?” She looked genuinely curious for a fleeting moment before brushing aside the thought. “Anyway, I live across the street near the rice mill.”
Maya paused for a moment, poured more water and said, "Ma says I should make friends if I want to talk to someone. I talk to her of course, but she is out working all the time. And sometimes I get lonely." She nervously fiddled with the loose strands of thread hanging from the waist of her dress and continued, "I tried to play with the other kids in the village. But they make fun of my clothes. And they say mean things about Deuta." Her eyes started to well up and she pursed her lips hard. “Deuta used to say he talked to the trees in the forest when he was a kid. I always wanted to do that. He said the trees grow faster when we talk to them.” She admired the form of Taru. “But you are already so big. Will I grow faster too if I talk to you?
“Anyway, he said he would take me to the forest when I’m older. But he’s gone now. So I came alone. Did he talk to you too?” Maya’s voice cracked and tears rolled down, streaking her dirt covered cheeks. She looked at her muddy feet for a few moments.
“I’m sorry for crying.” Maya rubbed her eyes and muttered in a cracked voice, “Ma says we can't afford to cry.”
“I’ll go now.” she regarded the setting sun and said, “I have to go to school in the morning. But tomorrow, I’ll come back to talk to you again in the afternoon after doing my chores. Oh, and I need to think of a name for you. I’ll think about it tonight.” She emptied the remaining water from the glass on Taru’s roots and said, “Goodbye for now, tree. I hope you will be my friend.”
Taru was left awestruck in Maya’s wake, unable to process what had just happened. Someone had spoken to her. Her! Everyone from the village had kept their distance for years. No, decades. Not even the secret lovers from the village considered her shadows worthy of their trysts. Aside from the occasional drunk who staggered over to relieve himself on her, no one even seemed to notice her presence. Well, perhaps not everyone. Some of the older villagers would notice and spit at her direction, though Taru never understood why.
She stood at the edge of the jungle surrounded by other towering trees, yet they never offered company. She didn't know how to communicate with them. Or perhaps it was the way of the trees to be lonesome consciousnesses, steeped in years of patient meditation, mute witnesses to a changing world. All the while growing riddled with bird feces, moving ever so slightly only at the decree of the weather.
But Maya had changed all of it. This grimy little child in rags strolled through the bushes and spoke to her, and Taru was spellbound for the entirety of her ramblings. Even if she’d had a mouth, it might have been wide agape at astonishment. After eons of neglect, she felt as though she had become someone, a real person. She kept repeating their conversation in her mind over and over, clinging to each innocent word until the next afternoon when Maya returned.
Maya settled down near the roots after pouring a bit of water from her glass. Her hands fluttering with excitement, she declared, “I’ll call you Taru. It means tree.” She grinned proudly, her eyes sparkling with delight as she explained, “I learned it in school.”
And so it began. Days turned into years as Maya poured her heart out to Taru. She would visit whenever she had the opportunity, in the afternoons of course, except on Sundays when she stayed home to help her mother. With each visit, Maya entrusted Taru with her deepest secrets, her wildest dreams, her fears, and her sorrows.
Eventually, she learned to climb Taru.
“I hope you don't mind when I climb up and sit on your branches.” Maya had once remarked huffing on her way up.
Nothing gives me more pleasure, Taru had thought.
Every day, she would ascend to her favourite spot on a sturdy branch where she would sit and pour her heart out to Taru. When Maya perched there, Taru felt as though she were sitting atop her shoulders. It was a sensation of quiet joy. The entire forest faded away as Maya spoke, droning on about the most mundane events in her life. Taru hung on to every word, immersed in the bliss of Maya’s voice and the occasional laughter. Each visit, though precious, felt far too short, always cut off by the arrival of each dusk. Yet those moments were their private islands where they lived free of care, oblivious to the real world in each other's company. In Taru’s mind, those brief encounters stretched into endless pockets of infinity.
“I wish you could speak to me too. You must have so many stories, having been here for so long.” Maya had glanced at Taru mischievously and said, “I bet you could tell me so many nasty things about all the villagers that pass through the forest.”
Oh, you have no idea! I could tell you stories that would make you blush, laugh and cry. I could… I wish I could speak to you too, Maya…
Then came the sharp sting of a repressed yearning that had grown all too familiar. But it didn’t matter. Yes, she longed to speak to Maya, to share her own thoughts. But she gladly accepted the status quo in their one-sided rendezvous. She had a friend, and it meant she mattered to someone. That was enough. She’d be fulfilled listening to Maya’s ramblings through the end of the world.
Taru’s life unfolded in the fleeting moments when the sun transiently lingered on the horizon, preparing to slip away for the night. Taru convinced herself this explained her unusual preference for sunsets; after all, a tree like herself ought to cherish the hours when sunlight was at its best. She had forgotten that she had been partial to that part of the day long before there was a Maya.
Amidst the ruminations, Taru’s eyes drifted across the street and lingered on the horizon. After a few moments, she spotted the familiar, scrawny figure of Maya approaching from the distance.
2
Maya had changed. Her visits had been growing more sporadic for almost a year now. And when she did manage to come, she was no longer the talkative friend who shared her stories with Taru. Instead, she had become morose and brooding, climbing up to her favorite branch only to huddle there in silence until dark. Her once incandescent chatter had vanished entirely, replaced by prolonged silences. She wouldn’t even greet Taru anymore. Climbing down abruptly, she would leave without so much as a goodbye.
This gradual yet striking transformation perplexed Taru. She considered the things that could have led to Maya’s unusual behaviour. She reflected on the struggles Maya had shared over the years: how her ailing mother barely managed to put food on the table, how her mother's death inevitably forced her into paid servitude, causing her to abandon her studies. Sometimes Maya grumbled about things people said and did to her because she was born in what she used to call the scrapheap of the society, used by all but shunned by everyone. Could it have been because of the boy she brought with her once who tried to touch her in ways she didn’t want him to? Taru had wanted to drop a thick branch on the head of that one, but Maya did well for herself, slapping the colour from his face. Or perhaps it was something more insidious: her grim reality slowly and methodically carving away at her dreams as she grew older.
“I don’t want to end up like Ma. Sometimes I feel like I'm becoming like her.” Maya had once said.
Don't say such things. Everything will be fine. You will be fine. Taru had thought. Taru knew for a fact that Maya was unique, for she was the only person in the world who cared about Taru when everyone else just ignored her. If she could bring colour to the life of a dull, old tree, she must be special.
Taru had hoped in earnest that Maya would eventually grow out of whatever she was going through. Somehow, she felt she had a vague understanding of this bizarre, self-loathing demeanour of Maya and was sure it was a temporary state of the mind that would come to pass over time. She was determined to wait out this storm with every ounce of optimism she could muster in the hopes of their failing friendship turning back to how it used to be.
***
Weeks later, one of those moody afternoons of prolonged silence and avoidance turned ominous as Taru learned something terrible. As Maya lay on the branch looking up unfocused at the sky, arms and legs dangling on each side, Taru noticed the most heart-wrenching and grotesque sight. Maya’s left wrist was a canvass strewn with scabs and mangled scar tissues from gashes and tears. The scars were long and made with something sharp, over and over again. Some cuts were recent and hadn’t even healed when more slashes were carved on top.
What have you done, Maya? What have you done! Speak to me. Why would you do such a thing? Maya started whistling an obscure tune as Taru shrieked inside her mind for the rest of the afternoon.
By the time Maya climbed down, Taru was exhausted, her tears typically beyond reach. She desperately wanted to hug Maya, console her, and say something magical that would take all her troubles away, so the real Maya who was hiding beneath the volatile layers of misery would resurface, smile and ramble on about the dullest affairs of her little world.
Weeks later, one of those moody afternoons of prolonged silence and avoidance turned ominous as Taru learned something terrible. As Maya lay on the branch looking up unfocused at the sky, arms and legs dangling on each side, Taru noticed the most heart-wrenching and grotesque sight. Maya’s left wrist was a canvass strewn with scabs and mangled scar tissues from gashes and tears. The scars were long and made with something sharp, over and over again. Some cuts were recent and hadn’t even healed when more slashes were carved on top.
What have you done, Maya? What have you done! Speak to me. Why would you do such a thing? Maya started whistling an obscure tune as Taru shrieked inside her mind for the rest of the afternoon.
By the time Maya climbed down, Taru was exhausted, her tears typically beyond reach. She desperately wanted to hug Maya, console her, and say something magical that would take all her troubles away, so the real Maya who was hiding beneath the volatile layers of misery would resurface, smile and ramble on about the dullest affairs of her little world.
Maya walked away and Taru noticed she was having trouble walking straight. Taru stood helplessly with a twinge in her soul, fretting over Maya’s physical torment and the agony inside that might have caused it.
***
Maya returned after a week of disappearance, if only to sleep near the roots for the night. She left at dawn without so much as a glance towards Taru. Following that night, Maya stopped visiting Taru altogether.
***
It had been over two months since Taru last saw Maya. Initially Taru thought Maya was on one of her recent sprees where she wouldn’t visit for a week or so at a stretch. Taru waited and waited for her to turn up. She was getting anxious at first, but now she was terrified.
Arrays of disturbing thoughts overwhelmed Taru’s mind as she ineffectually wrestled with her own mind, trying to think clearly without panicking. She was helpless. Useless! Stupid useless tree! Taru cursed at herself for being the pathetic lump of immobile, bug infested wood that she was. She tried to clench the earth in hopeless rebellion, her ancient strength meaningless against her own stillness. She strained against the prison of her being, aching to break free, to move, to do anything. But her body remained indifferent and frozen, as it always had, powerless to reach out to Maya’s world. Hers was to live like a corpse and watch helplessly as the only person who made her feel alive vanished without even a word.
***
Another month slipped by, and one night, Taru sensed the presence of someone approaching through the shadows. Even from a distance, the gaunt shape of Maya’s silhouette in the moonlight was unmistakable. She was hobbling towards Taru, her arms dangling at her side, with one foot stumbling slightly ahead of the other. She came to a halt near Taru’s trunk and giggled. She tilted her head to the side and peered at Taru.
“You know, I’m tired of being judged,” Maya said, her words thick and unsteady as she staggered closer and pressed her hand against the bark. “You’ve been watching me all these years, haven’t you? Never saying a word. Just standing there. Silent. Superior. Knowing everything. Judging everything.”
Her voice sharpened, bitter and raw. “There you are, towering over everything, ancient and untouchable, and I’m just some small, broken thing spilling my stupid life at your roots. Like I’m nothing. Like I don’t matter. Like I should just disappear.”
Her voice broke into a scream. “Trust me, I’ve tried!”
She stopped, shaking now, a bitter laugh tearing out of her. “And don’t pretend you’re innocent either. People still whisper about what happened here. About why they spit in your direction.” Her voice dropped. “I didn’t care about any of that. I just wanted someone to hear me. To see me. To treat me like I’m real.”
Tears streamed down her face as she whispered, “I’m so tired. I tried to be good. I really did.”
Maya wiped the tears from her bloodshot eyes, steadied herself with a wavering step, and muttered, “Perfect. I’m talking to a tree again. Figures. Always been wrong in the head.” She reached into the worn satchel at her side, pulled out a bottle, and said, “Here. Take this and leave me alone.” She tipped the half-empty bottle, letting the cheap liquor soak into Taru’s roots.
Taru stood there, crestfallen and lost in a fog of confusion, unable to form a single coherent thought as Maya staggered off into the darkness of the night.
3
It was that time of the year again where most trees around Taru shed their leaves. But surely, they didn’t endure the same feeling of weathering away on the inside as she did. The raw wounds left by Maya gradually turned into an abyss of smothering anguish and desolation as the last of Taru’s leaves were swept away by the dull wind in her indifference. She hadn’t looked at the afternoon sky in its sun-soaked vibrance for months. There was no incentive now. She had lost the only part of her that once lived and thrived in the throes of the dying sun. Even her memories with Maya felt like fragile illusions. A tree pretending to be human, dreaming up conversations she could never have had.
Taru had turned into a miserable husk when Maya arrived at last. Maya strode towards Taru holding her satchel that bulged with something. She dropped the satchel on the ground and pulled out what seemed like a patchwork of tattered old clothes tied together to resemble a rope. Her glistening eyes were lucid as she approached Taru’s trunk with surefooted determination.
The fabric of the rope swayed slightly in the breeze, catching the orange glow of the afternoon in its creases, its rough knots dragging it down as if tethering it to reality. It was when Maya knotted the rope into a noose, a primeval terror woke up inside Taru.
Images sprang from the darkest corners of her mind and flooded Taru’s eyes. Flashes of what seemed like a life lived by a stranger bombarded Taru’s mind. Suddenly, an enormous sense of powerlessness and loss weighed on her shoulders and she could feel an immeasurable physical and mental pain unknown to her, yet so familiar in ways she couldn’t understand.
Taru saw a vision. A girl was approaching her in it. Strangely, Taru could see her own enormous, looming form with leafless branches through the eyes of the girl. But the girl in the vision was not Maya. The girl's face was bloodied and swollen, her private parts ached violently, each muscle in her malnourished body protested in pain. She didn’t see the bruises; she felt them. She could feel the broken bones grating beneath her skin as she inched towards the tree wheezing, carrying a makeshift rope almost identical to that of Maya's.
The girl looked at the tree that was Taru like it was a gateway to a place where her troubles would cease to be. No. It was Taru who regarded the tree through the eyes of the injured girl. She, as the girl, climbed up and tied the rope on the branch that belonged to Maya. She slipped the knot over her head, tightened the noose around her neck, and stood on the branch. She glanced at the orange skyline and the red sun over the horizon. It looked peaceful and calm. It was as though it was welcoming her to a world without pain. It was beautiful. She stepped off the branch.
The fogs of the nightmarish vision cleared and her neck began hurting again, the truth dawned on Taru. The girl from the vision was clearly not Maya. And there was no Taru, the tree either. Taru felt as though unseen walls inside her mind came crumbling down as she began to realize that the girl was Taru herself. Taru, the tree was just a fiction, fabricated by a lost girl hanging from a rope, forgotten by all, even herself. For eons, she hung from that tree, unremembered, losing her sense of self with passing time. She couldn't even recall what she was called before she was dubbed Taru. At some unknown juncture, her spirit became one with the mighty tree she was tethered to, providing her the strength she needed to stand the test of time. Taru was the cursed existence Maya unknowingly aspired to become.
Memories of the unspeakable events that led to her demise flowed through Taru’s trembling mind: how she was overpowered, robbed of a future, and forced into a life of shame. She remembered how the villagers pulled her body down, leaving her fractured consciousness still lingering on that branch, doomed to witness eternity in silence. They purposefully started to avoid the tree; some even spat at the direction of the cursed tree following the incident.
With an intense jolt of reality that overpowered her senses like a thunderstorm, Taru came back to the present. Maya was already halfway into tying the rope around the same branch where Taru had ended herself. It was evident now why Maya’s despair seemed all too familiar. Taru could see the same weight in Maya’s eyes, the same longing for escape that had once consumed her own soul. But this time, Taru refused to remain silent. The branch that had borne her pain for ages could not carry Maya’s too. She reached out, somehow, anyhow, straining against the stillness that had defined her existence. She screamed until her throat, if she had one, felt raw, each word a desperate plea to save the girl she had come to love.
No! Maya, Stop! Don’t do it! Please don’t do it. I will help you; I will do anything. Listen to me, damn it! Listen to me for once…
Maya looked around startled, as though someone had called out to her. Then she shrugged and slipped the noose around her neck and tightened it.
Maya paused for a moment. She looked apologetically at Taru as streams of tears shone on her cheeks and said, “I’m sorry, Taru.”
Please listen to me, Maya. You can’t do it.
The branch creaked and slightly shifted as if it was about to break. Maya steadied herself and kissed the tree, bidding farewell to the only presence that had silently bore witness to her pain...
Stop! I said stop now! Maya don’t…
Maya regarded the setting sun for a moment and leaped.
CODA
There were tense arguments about cutting down the cursed tree among the villagers. The gloominess that surrounded the tree and stories of the unspeakable incidents it was tied to had begun attracting troubled youths towards it. Some said it didn’t bode well for the village to have such an evil presence around them. Some believed it would be dire for the community to cut down a tree that could possess minds and drive people to commit terrible acts. For cutting it down might mean inviting a terrible curse upon the entire village.
The crippled boy named Rinku, a teenager, had been the tree’s latest victim. If not for the branch snapping at the last moment, sending him plummeting to the ground unconscious, the village would have been attending a funeral instead of gathering inside the community hall for that meeting.
In the end, no one had the courage to cut the tree down. They decided on avoiding the tree like before. They warned everyone in the village to steer clear of the cursed tree at all times. The village council agreed upon ostracism or a hefty fine for disobedience.
And so, the tree remained. Despite the warnings, sometimes curious onlookers would approach the tree, gazing at it with a mix of awe and trepidation. Some noticed how it seemed to have grown significantly larger recently. The tree turned into a local legend that was often discussed in hushed tones around the village. Some even claimed that one could hear human voices and laughter over the branches right before the sun sets.
