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.”
