The Tree Limb Girl  

I stood watching the road below. The breezy clime and wintry atmosphere makes one stand on longer than one would normally.  Nature at her best in a city that is always at its worst; one shower does wonders to the atmosphere. It suddenly looks so clean. The trees washed clean and displaying their green hues. Also, one can see afar as compared to the limited vision afforded by the previous foggy environment.

She caught my gaze at once. There she stood on the limb of a tree balancing a long stick skillfully, elegantly as a street side player. One dainty leg over one gnarled tree limb while I waited for the crash that never came. She was occupied in knocking off some guavas from the tree. She knocked out ripe guavas from the tree with a long bamboo stick. They lay scattered around on the ground while she continued searching for more.  

The lady on the tree had snugly tucked the saree pallu between her legs and secured it on her waistband so that she could adroitly climb the tree and not let the elegant folds of the saree come in the way of her exercise. The fruits, what I could see from my high vantage point, didn’t seem ripe or big. There was another lady below the tree picking up the fallen fruits. She had a small child of her own. One year maybe since the child could totter around on its own.

When sufficient number of guavas had been felled she got down. The women gathered the fruits together and began eating. I felt that they belonged in that scene much more than I ever could. Climbing trees and eating fallen fruits does go against the urban genteelness. I wondered who they were. Then as I left the building complex, I noticed that the watchman was also around.

They were the construction workers in the same compound who came to fill water in their plastic drums. They belonged here temporarily and yet I could think of none who were more at home and belonged as much as them.