On the bank of a river, stood a majestic Banyan Tree. Its branches, like thoughts, reached the heavens.

It had braved many storms, deluge and droughts. The hanging roots from branches gave the tree an appearance of a great saint in contemplation.

Proud of its strength and stability, merrily lived all alone, enjoying the life of solitude.

Years passed. One day some travellers passing by halted for a while under the shade of the tree. A lovely child brought out a vine from his bag and planted it little away from the tree. `My dear Liana, I leave you in your new home, hope you will thrive`. And soon they left. The tree took no note of the new arrival as she was too trivial an entity and many such plants grew and dried in its vicinity. 

Liana was quick to grow and in a short time she settled. She started blooming and dancing in the cool moist breeze. The breeze impregnated with the fragrance of Liana reached the leaves of the tree, as if rejuvenated, they turned lush green. The Robin sang the songs of spring, but the spring was far too away. The tree did recognise these changes but did not consider them significant. `Well some times there are some seasonal variations` it thought.

One fine morning a young branch slowly and silently crept towards Liana, leaning, almost close to her ears, whispered a `Hi`. In a few days they were seen chatting for hours.

The Robins songs became bolder and louder. The good old tree too, could not remain aloof. The fragrance and songs of Robin had pumped new energy in it. The good old tree also started blooming and dancing with every wisp of the breeze.  Atmosphere was vibrant, joyful.

In the remote corner the twig and Liana were mumbling love songs in each other’s ears. On the same evening the creeper started creeping over the branch, closely embracing it. The tree shuddered. Was there an earthquake? Some thing very strange was happening. Changes very subtle to start with, were now quite apparent.  The spring had arrived. All the other birds had started singing joyfully. Bees were humming; the sensuous song of cuckoo had filled the air. Every one shared the pleasure of Liana and the branch except an old owl. This owl had stayed, for years, in a hole in the chest of Banyan. His mind was tuned to `the darkness of   existence` and he knew about the fragility of spring. Thus he was neither happy with the spring nor with the developing romance. But the loud Cheers of festivity buried his warnings. 

By the end of spring the relations of the branch and the Liana had become fairly intimate. The moist winds announced the arrival of monsoon. The lightening and clouds brought the nectar, pouring in abundance. The entire earth richly responded. Liana too was blooming and growing longer and stronger. She was in the prime of her youth.

By now she had penetrated the twig and was growing in the very core of it, silently reaching the heart.

The realisation of its reaching the heart came as a big jolt. The tree suddenly recognised the presence of the intruder, who had dared to enter its soul.  It also felt a strong under current of emotion, much stronger than the currents of the swollen river flowing by. The pride of the solitary existence was shattered, totally destroyed,

For the first time the tree felt that the old owl was right, and it was a great error not to have heeded to his advise. It was wild with rage. With utter contempt and anger it looked at Liana as if telling her `What the hell are you doing? ` Liana was not to give in, she appeared asking `Why in the hell did your twig approach me and became so intimate. ` Her gesture was sort of `Take care of your own household, Sir`

The great Banyan ordered, “Not a single branch is supposed to talk with the creeper. And not a leaf will look at her”. It was a blanket ban!

The winter had set in. The entire atmosphere was freezing, cold to the core of existence. But deep within the tree there was a volcanic explosion. The tree was shaken to its roots. The winds were not so strong, neither was this the first storm. The entire tree was shaking violently. 

The Robin sang in a deep sonorous voice.

`The chilled winds of memories blow

Storms in the separated soul grow

Freezing the tears in the eyes

The cunning winds simply flow. `

Did the tree miss Liana? Did it really suffer?

For the first time it saw a frozen tear in its eyes. It examined the very depth of its own self, and nowhere `The Tree` was to be seen. Everywhere it could see Liana. Liana in the leaves, Liana in the branches, Liana in the entire core of its being. Was it an end of its existence? Or was it a transformation? The thoughtful branches could not come to its rescue, as they too were transformed.

From the heart of the tree the old owl said

`Whom are you missing my dear? Are you missing Liana? She is very much within you? What you are missing is your own lost self! 

If at all you wish to shed a tear, shed it for your own disappearance.