A tree stood. It was an ordinary, almost forgettable tree, in the middle of the hills of sand and gravels a depot owned. I didn’t notice it myself till I had to walk the road it was across for my daily morning and evening classes. Although I dreaded the thought of waking up so early in the morning just to attend some classes, I looked forward to just seeing that tree in the morning breeze. It was the same in the evening as well. As much as I hated staying till six after school, the walk home brought tremendous joy as I again saw the same tree, now with the afterglow and evening cool breeze.
The hills that served as its background remained invisible in the early dusk and dawn. So, it really was just a free-standing tree amongst the grains of sand, often giving the entire area an illusion of desert. What I remember most about it is its grandeur in the rising sun as its leaves reflected the rays with dew on top and the way it blocked just a small part of the setting sun as its branches scattered the rays. To capture that vision of light, the variety of it caused by this tree was what I desired the most in every walk.
The most memorable ones, however, were the mornings of the full moon nights. The sight of the moon in the east as it rose was less fascinating compared to its setting so early in the morning, just above the very tree, sometimes, hiding in between the branches, yet illuminating nevertheless, transitioning from the white round bulb to warm speck under the hills. The round full moon nesting on top of the tree periodically, until the sun came up with its own light reflected on the leaves left the entire area with a unique radiance.
So, this tree was always a spot of confluence of the setting moon and the rising sun, the lights and the evening and the eyes that turned towards it, even just for an instant. The tree still stands, just the area around it has turned into a proper meeting place now, for lovers, for friends who got left behind but are trying to catch up, for photographers trying to capture the best view of the night city. Overtime, the common hub that it served as, at least to me, got lost. When I pass by it now, it’s always the days or the nights, no dusks or dawns, no in-betweens when it is in its most endearing state and even though there are photos, there’s none of it in its state that fascinated me the most.