The Blossom Tree

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By Mir Umer

Every season comes with different colors and aesthetic fragrance(s). For every season, the nature pacifies madness and recovers its zeal- sowing seeds of joviality on this earth. It looks simple to us because with every passing season, we change camouflages to brace ourselves from bruising but uncertain winds. But, it is not that simple for creatures resting in castle of nature. The pace at which nature’s creatures change their garments exposing their intricate ventures to the new seasons that may or may not be tyrannical, take a long struggle. These gutsy changes mainly gets unnoticed but deep inside it’s the synthesis of hardships and pain that bears the bloom or the fall. Many things change with time but seasons have predominantly different changes. Either the season embraces the human soul, dwindles the pain or acquits it with its wilderness. Sometimes, even wildernesses, with its wild essence, redeems the joviality.
Spring is already here. Colors have hefted the nature with new intricate ornamental flowers. Blooms have evolved with new souls. The blooms which had yearned for the first dawn light to fall upon them, have rectified their bruised soul which has freed them from the yoke of slavery. Spring is the season of hope where blooms have sprinkled new beautifying colors which drive the human soul towards the lap of nature. Though this struggle took time but now when they are free to bloom, have broken the wall of separation and are eclipsed with the moon of love.
Each morning, when the sun comes out from the cocoon of darkness, its light crawls to this part of world to end the poignant rule of the night. The sunlight when first fall on the bright little flowers of winsome blossoms, a new light is born. Separated by a cement wall with iron nails plucked on its edges to further strengthen the defense of the home, the blossom tree stands calm over the arrival of spring. Its branches have spread over to our courtyard. Some of the old but heavy branches have leaned down or are joined with the half rusted roof. On every branch, the blooms accompanied by green leafy sepals have evolved. These blossoms are tomorrow’s fruits if they survive the penetrating light and scraping winds.
During the rising sun, it beautifully acquires light; one by one, side by side and then it fully restores its glory under the bright sun. Sparrows hop on its branches; sometimes they stand by and sing melodies. Even the blossom tree is the meeting point where they flicker on its tiny branches and then disappear like street shadows. Appear and Disappear. Bulbuls and mynahs also hung in and enjoy the shade of blossom tree. But when fruits ripne, like cherries these birds turn their sharp beaks to pierce the fruit which then outrages the fruit owner and further harries the household. Throughout the day, it stands firm and calm to the callous sunlight while humans restrict themselves to their houses.
Once the sun bids adieu the day, its fading rays before setting behind dark mountains lurks through blossom tree and stimulates human emotions. When the setting rays slowly fade away from the blossom tree, it is pushed behind and evening turns in.
The evening storms, once I remember pinched the filaments of little blossoms which then swayed down in our courtyard. It looked like a big carnage of these little blossoms by the oppressing winds. I have witnessed its testimony during the rain and wind storms when tyrant thrust its branches, making them to lean down or completely broken. But, it struggles with all its trajectory movements to stand upright which makes it to grow stronger every day. Despite all the pain, it faced and felt, it has never stopped blooming. It blooms every season with new hope and colors…

—Mir Umar is a student of English Literature. He can be reached at: