A moving tale of an immovable asset

SPICE OF LIFE: The first seed of damage was sown when my proprietor couldn’t resist rising to the monetary bait being offered by the real estate sector

How would you feel if your beautiful home was dismantled and turned into your own graveyard? Ask me! My only helplessness was that I didn’t have a tongue to cry foul and spell my unbearably pitiful pain in loud words as the ear-piercing rattle of an approaching bulldozer numbed my senses standing threateningly before me like a spooky murderer.

My guardian was a dutiful farmer, who would painstakingly tend me like a mother and often go the extra mile to ensure my healthy existence in all seasons. (HT file photo)

Let me take you all back to my flourishing yesteryear when, as an evergreen piece of field, I took pride in my matchless beauty ornamented with vegetation, thriving ever so blissfully in the lap of Mother Nature. Scores of butterflies and bumblebees would race against each other, weaving their ways in and out of the dense foliage, and after getting tired, they would perch on tops of flowers to revive their energies. My guardian was a dutiful farmer, who would painstakingly tend me like a mother and often go the extra mile to ensure my healthy existence in all seasons.

Relishing my relaxing holidays as my caretaker let me lie fallow, I’d soon get recharged, feeling fresh to resume my duties to feed countless stomachs. The sharp jet of groundwater pumped out from my inner depths would come roaring out of the mouth of the tubewell and flow criss-cross through an intricate network of narrow intersecting channels to bathe my sprawling expanse, fanning out across all directions.

From time to time, a number of exhausted passers-by would stop by my side to quench their thirst or indulge in my silent and soothing ambience to reenergise themselves, while tech-savvy youngsters would hardly forget to take selfies with my emerald settings in the backdrop.

Not in my wildest dreams had I thought that my coveted fate would be sealed in such a disgraceful manner. The first seed of damage was sown when my proprietor couldn’t resist rising to the monetary bait being offered by the real estate sector. Consequently, my productive days were numbered. Digging a yawning hole into my foundation, my new owners got it stuffed with piles of gravel, turning me barren and later weighing me down under a gigantic heavyweight skyscraper that eventually pushed my prosperous living into dark obscurity for all time. All those dense cluster of trees, waving on my fringes that leaned from side to side to fan and regale me in silence, bore the brunt of being my companions as they too were felled and cut into logs before being transported to a sawmill. What else could I do save yearning fruitlessly for the return of the good old days?

My final fate was implausible to reverse at any cost, directing me to lie quiet for the rest of my life, buried deep under a cemented cemetery. However, my heart perpetually beats concern and worry for kindred friends of mine over whom the danger of getting eliminated in the near future has loomed large ever since humans developed the vice of cutting their pieces of farmland into money-spinning plots. My humble petition to all stakeholders is about keeping my peers safe in their original design and shape lest they should meet the ill-fated doom as the one narrating the tale. It’s time humans introspected on why the law for the safety of a land has thus far failed to gain strong ground in the law of the land! 0423radhika@gmail.com

The writer is a government teacher at Gagret in Himachal Pradesh