Pine - I am a tree,
living at edge of the cliff.
Why did you find me?
Pranav - Hi, your name is Himalayan Chir Pine,
Cheed for Pahadi people around
A conifer at Sunset point, Nain
in Kandbari, Kangra district, Himachal Pradesh.
In the lap of Dhauladhar mountains,
On a middling altitude and south facing slope,
Most suitable for you and your family’s survival.
As per ecologists and the dictionary,
Of the species Pinus Roxburghii
From the genus Pinus,
part of the plant kingdom.
Pine – Oh cut with the scientific jargon,
If you want to communicate with me,
Tell me more about myself.
You seemed distracted when you stumbled upon me
What was occupying your mind?
I live with my fellow brethren
Yet what made me so singularly noticeable?
Pranav – Oh pine, you look quite fine,
Through the light of the setting sun
Your thin and bunchy leaves glimmer,
Below you flows the Awa Khadd,
Whose gushing sound encapsulates
every moment with you.
Though what really brought me to you was
The way your trunk splits from the bottom,
Feels like inverted and crooked legs
The split provided a beautiful view,
Not merely of the snow capped Himalayas in front,
But a gaze that looks above from below
Of your intertwined leafy and non-leafy branches
On touching your scaly bark,
felt bumpy at first,
Though on sensing it from the inside,
The smooth layer smelt like musk
The pockets of lichen growing on it too,
Probably supported by the misty damp air
rising from the Khadd,
yet unlike our human homes,
which get diseased while interacting with fungus,
You not only provide space, but also let them thrive
How can we become symbiotic like your kind?
Pine – You seek out my form and charm
Then why you harming me?
You have been visiting me for the past three days
At dusk, when the sun fades away
Yet you wait, probably to view me in the moonlight
Do I not have any privacy?
You kept touching my trunk,
Tried to see within my bark
while breaking a piece from it
Leaned back on the ground,
Gazing at my bark, branches and leaves
While also taking away a pinecone
Isn’t this stealing?
Can I call the forest department?
Pranav - No, no, I’m sorry, I was told to observe you
I wanted to create a relation with your being.
Although I agree I wasn’t the most caring,
But I have very little time.
You know research claims to be radical
But stuck in the loop of empty homogeneous time,
Very demanding with deadlines you see,
Nonetheless I sensed your ability to give,
As locals say “cheed ke kaafi faayde hote hain”
Saw the wax oozing from some of the bark,
If your resin provides locals with economic benefit,
My intention to take the pinecone and piece of the bark
Was merely for the aesthetic beauty of its shape and texture.
Pine – Oh please! Don’t lie to me by pleasing my looks,
I know what you call aesthetics is merely your cultural capital,
To monetize my life, much like everyone else,
I know writing this will bring you many laurels,
Maybe a grant or an award too.
But who are you to understand the dignity of pain?
What risks I bear from you humans?
Will you continue to please my form,
Rather than informing me regarding my condition?
Pranav – I apologize for taking away the pinecone
and will return it if you wish
You are right, I must tell you
about what survives and thrives with you.
I saw many thin grasses and small shrubs
supported around you,
alongside monkeys
swinging from your branch to another
or laddu, the Sambhavna doggo,
coming all the way near you
to gaze across the valley
depicting possibilities of coexistence.
Only because I saw you, I was
Able to notice the barren stump,
in between your trunks,
Did someone abuse you,
Seems like a chainsaw cut,
Was it a big or small part?
Though amidst the distance you have with other pines,
The flourishing of lantana felt worrisome,
While pretty flowers may fool someone,
By slowly eating away fresh grass,
It also becomes a precipice for forest fire,
If it accidentally snaps up and combusts,
With the resin around the pinecone.
PINE – You ask about my past
but weren’t there when I was harmed.
You enquire about my risky future,
Whether I am felled or suffer from a fire,
You’ll be gone soon, then what?
It is only I who can protect myself,
By letting my roots flow as tentacles
And further attach to the ground,
As my branches spread out into sky,
I hope to nourish myself
With the ample water
I received this monsoon,
Though I am afraid of these landslides,
Which your kind has propelled in this habitat,
By dredging and tunnelling,
In the thirst for development,
That not only directly makes me vulnerable,
And threatened by river erosion or mudslides,
It also pushes the burden on your kind,
particularly those who cannot have
the tools to withstand the disaster.
In your Anthropocene then,
What non-human intimacy do you share?
Pranav – I agree our kind took you for granted,
Nation States focus on the carbon you sequester,
For monetizing it in the carbon market,
And buying credit in climate negotiations
But the forest department will only target
Those whose dependence and survival
matters through you, in the guise of wanting to protect you.
I guess my intention to know you
is also somewhat equally foreign.
I will never fully know you,
Though hope to tell your story.
Pine - I cannot give you the story you want
I don’t have answers to the problems I didn’t create,
Why not ask your own humankind then.
Like who planted me?
Whose land I am on?
How old I am?
What brought me here?
All I know is that my roots lie here.
You can only write about me
With what you witness with me.
Pranav – Oh Pine, you make sense too.
I was naïve in how I perceived you
I admire your courage
To persist on the edge,
And in awe of your reason,
That your body possesses.
I will honestly think with your meditations,
Much like how rain and breeze,
Whose interactions though fleeting,
Will continue as long as time persists.
I promise to visit again,
And share my anxieties,
In the hope for love
And shared space,
For you to be you
And for me to also be you.