I wandered through the village
in the woods of densely formed trunks
and I was told that it is not a forest

but a tree, I drank sweet tea
under the ******* aerial roots
and the thick foliage above it

The woman I spoke to, laughed
at my wonder and took my hand
She led me to the middle

where our surrender embraced the trunk
which was too thick for four outstretched arms
The red ribbons touched our head

Back on the terrace on the edge
where the young trunks in the lake
form a living canopy

we saw a flight of parrots
The birds were shouting at us
'No Hurry', they yelled every time

when they passed in the bright colours
of their message: 'No Hurry!
Be Wappy!'

Just like me,
If you happen to see,
This magnificent Banyan tree:
You would probably be,
Feeling free;
Or looking up towards the sky,
Likely heaving a sigh,
As you walk by.

Surely this banyan must provide
So many places to hide;
For birds to make their nests
Under its vast expansiveness.

If I were young
I would have clung,
To the roots and swung
Like a little child
From side to side.

But now
I'd rather look up and see
The wind blowing through the tree,
Watch the leaves shake and shimmer
Exposing their emerald green glimmer.

I'd love to sit in its shade,
Watch a wedding cavalcade,
Dig into the earth with a *****.
Feel the sun as he filters through,
Watch the hues in the morning dew.

I am a banyan(vatavriksha)
Standing like
The guardian figure
At the gateway of the village
Oh you thought
The champakas,rajanigandhas
Were envious of me
No,no
I am an old one
Seen some hundred summers
And winters
Children and tots
Playing merrily
In my cool shade
On a hot summer afternoon
The river near me
I daily see
Carries timelessness
Just like me
Lovers passionate
Passing on boats
Even in floods of fury
Dreaming of being
Radha Krishna
And gopis
What not
Do I see
Oh pralaya(destruction)
Did see Krishna
Floating away
On one of my leaves!
A baby ******* his toe
Untouched by any worry
My leaves are heart shaped
I do touch hearts of men
Read their minds
Some robust like me
Some weak
I wish to stand here
Endlessly
For just like holy kadamba
Under which Krishna gave gopis
Aatmananda(joy of self-conscience)
Rich with its divine glory
I am but a mere banyan tree!

A poem is a riven arrow, whistling through the banyan forest of words;
with deft flight it emerges swiftly from the confusion and with precision, strikes you deep in the heart...