Page 18 - English_Spark_5
P. 18

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 Raki.

            ‘‘It might,’’ admitted Grandfather.

                                                          Section-3


            But the tree had no intention of dying. By the time summer came round again,
            it  had  sent  out  several  new  shoots.  Even  when  there  was  rain,  Raki  would

            sometimes water the tree. He wanted it 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’re a butterfly,’’ he said.

            That February, it was Raki’s birthday. He was nine and the tree was three but
            almost as tall as the boy. One sunny morning, Grandfather came into the garden

            to bask. ‘‘Let some warmth get into my old bones,’’ as he put it. He stopped in

            front of the cherry tree, stared at it for a few moments and then called out,
            ‘‘Raki, come and look!’’ Raki dashed over to see a pale, pink blossom at the end

            of a branch. They gazed at this little miracle.

            One afternoon, Raki 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 Raki, ‘‘what’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 Raki 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?’’

                                                                                     —(abridged) Ruskin Bond



                stumbled — to fall; scythe — a tool with long handle and a blade; swishing — to
                move quickly through the air; foliage — all the leaves of a tree; intention — aim of
                purpose; dashed — to go somewhere suddenly;  striding  — to walk with long steps.




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