When we look at a tree, we talk of its height; we rest under its relieving shade; we wonder of the depth of its roots that are beneath the ground; we imagine the good and bad times it has seen over the years withstanding the weather’s pleasantness as well as its vagaries.
But do we ever talk about the seed which was planted long back in times immemorial?
Till now, I had never.
We often praise the old tree’s massiveness but seldom the teeny-tiny seed which sprouted years ago.
It’s not been long that I have been writing and still I am the size of a sprout in the writing world, so the memory of the seed of writing which was planted a few years back by my mother is still fresh; but it should be like this: even when my seed, which has just sprouted, turns into a huge tree; no matter how much height it attains or how deep its roots grow; people around me may commend my tree, but I shall never forget the seed. No matter the good or bad times my tree faces and no matter whatever turn the weather takes, my mother can always rest under my tree’s shade…satisfied…