This is a story from my drafts that never saw the light! What a fun memory!
She stood on the edge of a cliff when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She jerked her head around to look back and saw a familiar face. Within a moment, he pushed her off the cliff. She couldn’t feel the ground below he- she started jolting her legs roughly. Within a shake, she felt a soft but stiff surface under her body. She woke with a start, sweating and shaking.
The loud morning alarm woke her up from the daily nightmare she was inured to. It was seven in the morning, it was her time to jog, she remembered. She hated routine but found it a way to keep all the unnecessary thoughts of the nightmare at bay. As she woke up, she speedily wore her sports attire, plugged in her black earphones and went off to exercise in the nearby park, thus completing her first act of the routine.
It was a dull, gray Wednesday. There was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that she would be soon witnessing something odd in the park. Her light morning jog around the park was her only solitary time throughout the day and hence her favourite time of the day. Throughout the rest of the day, she was stuck in the cobweb of earning money through a job she had absolutely no interest in. As she entered the park and started to jog, she was greeted by the the following fellow humans — a boy selling water on the wheel cart, and another was an old lady who would feed the birds at the parchment . She sat on a bench under a Gulmoher tree whose flowers had withered on the ground to an unappealing red. After a few meters, her eyes would fall on a huddle of passionate cyclists who crossed her as she continued jogging. One of the cyclists would stare at her in an innocently flirty way as though he wants her to get the hint but is too shy to make a move in front of the fellow cyclists. Secretly, she only enjoys the attention and longs for the cyclist to talk to her as she finds herself low on self-confidence to approach him. As she trotted ahead, she comes across a lake in one of the corners of the park. On the shore, there was a bench which was her usual resting spot. Apart from the obvious reason of being tired, she enjoyed sitting on the bench because there was no one to disturb her rendezvous with the scenic beauty. One side of the lake was surrounded by magnificent trees of various shades of green, yellow and brown. On the other side of the lake, there lay huge hills. She found the place serene and loved to linger around the lake before jogging back to the entrance. Today, having arrived at the lake, she prepared herself to go near the bench. As she came close to the bench, she saw a man standing by the lake. She had never seen him in the park before. He was a severe-looking tall old man with a clean-shaven face. He wore a baby pink polo t-shirt tucked in neatly tapered trousers. He also wore a flat cap with a small stiff in front on his head. His glossy black shoes shone bright under the natural light. He must be waiting for someone, she thought. She decided to not take a break and jogged back to the entrance and got on with her day.
With each passing day, she saw the old man in different shades of pastel polo t-shirts, standing alone near the trees. With each passing day, she grew curious. It was another day for her jog on a winter morning with an inky sky when she decided to find out about the old man. She took a quick break from jogging and walked over to him. As she got closer, she heard the old man mumble sentences which she couldn’t catch from afar. Unbeknownst to what the old man was up to, she walked away, for she thought it would be impolite to disturb him.
It was just another day in the park. Spring had just set in. Birds chirped, trees danced to the tune of a slight breeze. There was no one in the park expect a few fitness enthusiasts. As she strolled near the lake, the old man greeted her with his wrinkled smile right near the garden gate. Surprised by this unfamiliar act by the old man, she jerked her head behind to check if the smile was meant for any of his acquaintance. There was no one but her. Involuntarily, she smiled back at the old man and continued jogging.
She continued spotting the old man at different corners of the park. The old man never failed to smile, until one day when the greeting pattern changed. It was a regular morning and there was nothing in the gloomy sky to suggest that something strange would happen as she approached the lake. She was near the corner of the park when she noticed something peculiar about the way the old man stood. He held the brim of the cap, took it off his head and waved at her. Astonished by this action, she replied with a slight polite nod and continued jogging.
For a few weeks the duo greeted each other. With the fear of being intrusive, she always stopped herself from having a conversation with the old man. One day curiosity got the best in her. She braved up and walked towards the old man, patiently waiting as him to finish his ‘sentence’.
“Hello”, she said. “I see you here every morning by the lake. If you don’t mind my nosiness, I would love to know what you do here in such cold weather? Do you come here to pray?”
The old man smirked as though he knew what she was going to ask. “I talk to my wife. It is her favourite spot in the garden. She likes to see the water lilies. But she loves the birds and the bees here”, followed with a wink. She knew what the phrase meant which took her aback but she decided to let it go construing him to be jovial.
“There is just one of you here, where is your wife? I can’t see her!” she exclaimed.
“She has been dead over a few months now, but I still see her in nature. In fact, she is the one who encouraged me to smile at you.”
She was utterly bewildered by his response and something in her couldn’t stop her from inquiring more. Trying her best to not hurt the old man’s sentiments, she asked stupidly.
“Where is she right now? Can I talk to your wife?”
“Oh, yes!”, the old man replied. “You see the Dogwood tree over there? She is sitting below that tree today. You can have a word with her o’er there.”
“Can I talk to her in private?”, she asked hesitantly. To her surprise, the old man agreed, and she walked up to the Dogwood tree.
She walked carefully as she approached the Tree, maneuvering her way through the dirty leaves, which made a crackling sound as she stepped on them. After taking a few steps she reached the Dogwood tree. It was a deciduous, thirty feet tall tree with withered flowers. She knelt with one arm resting on her standing knee. She then slightly bent forward, closed her eyes as though she was about to imagine something. A cold breeze pierced through her. Her bare arms and hands numbed with cold as she found herself mumbling talking/whispering/praying to the tree. After a few minutes she peacefully stood up. As she brushed the mud off her knee and hands, she felt a certain kind of energy rush in her body from head to toe. She now knew why the old man came here. She turned back to the jogging trail only to find the old man gone.
She continued her daily life, trying her best to not remember this day. A few months later, there was a whiff of spring being around the corner. The charming nature was now home to many kinds of different flowers. Even the splendid Dogwood tree bloomed flowers with dark green humongous leaves. Everything had changed since the day she spoke to the old man and the Tree. Speaking with the Tree is something that she continued doing in the hope to meet the old man again. She had never seen him in the park after that day. But now, there were more people in the park than ever. Amongst many people in the park, a little boy couldn’t help but notice her every day as she spoke to the Tree. When she walked over to the Tree, he carefully placed his toys beside him and stood up on his little feet with all his mighty power to observe her with inquisition.
The next day, this little boy decided to approach her. He concentrated on the jogging trail hard while playing on the dry gravelly soil. When he finally saw her approach the Tree, he rested his toys on the rocks, stood up and rooted at the spot with a stern look, as though he was about to go on a mission. He waited for her to finish her “time” with the Tree like once she had waited for the old man. A feeling of Déjà vu struck the nature. As she finished her daily routine, speedily the little boy ran up to her. Assuming he had something to say to her, she bent down slowly to his height, eager to talk to him.
With utter innocence, the little boy asked her the question she had once asked the old man, “Hello, do you pray to the Tree every day?”
With a gentle smile on her face, she replied, “Hello little one! No, I wasn’t praying to the tree. I was talking to my mother.”, ruffled his hair and jogged off.
