My Tryst With The Mulberry Trees

By Peer Mohammad Amir Qureshi

As I lay in repose, besieged by the ailment that had plagued me for days, my ruminations were abruptly interrupted by the plaintive creak of the door. It was my jubilant younger sister, exuberantly proclaiming, “Behold, dear brother, the bounteous harvest of nature’s jewels!” She presented before me a cornucopia of luscious mulberries, plucked fresh from the tree that adorned our abode. With eager anticipation, she implored me to indulge in their succulence.

As I partook of the vibrant red and black berries, a flood of nostalgia swept over me, transporting me to the halcyon days of my youth. I regaled my sister with tales of yore, recounting our fervent pursuit of ripe mulberries during our school days. Along the path to our scholastic endeavors stood three majestic mulberry trees, one of colossal proportions, too daunting to ascend, while the other two provided ample bounty.

Accompanied by my younger brother and two cousins, Sahil and Aabiroo, we would entrust our burdensome school bags to Aabiroo, stationed below, while Sahil, my brother Aqib, and I ascended the branches in search of nature’s treasure. Amidst laughter and camaraderie, we would pluck the juiciest mulberries, teasing Abiroo with promises of a share, only to relent and shower her with the fruits of our labor, as she gleefully savored their succulence, standing guard over our belongings below.

Balanced precariously on the branches, it became clear, as it often does in the human experience, that the richness of ripe berries was unevenly distributed. In our search for the juiciest mulberries, we found ourselves darting from branch to branch, seeking nature’s tastiest presents. Despite our ardent rummaging, a lingering fear gnawed at our minds: the looming punishment for our late return home. We developed stratagems to avoid detection, planning to quickly change clothes and dump our belongings before our mothers noticed our protracted absence. However, upon our return, our well-intentioned plans were welcomed with a bombardment of inquiry, As our tongues were coated with the dark color of those mulberries, our malicious deeds were caught red handed.our mothers’ voices rising in a chorus of concern and curiosity, demanding explanations for our extended absences.In the past, parental fear loomed large, as the danger of falling from great arboreal heights shadowed our every step. Thus, with stealth and guile, we set out on expeditions to find delicious mulberries hidden in nature’s bosom, safe from parental monitoring.

We used to make the trek to the mulberry trees on idyllic Sundays in the past, searching for the berries’ illusive sweetness. Fortunately, what greeted us on our hunt was droves of nightingales and sparrows adorned those branches in plenty .But unfortunately there presence is ebbed to naught as we now are saddened by the disappearing chorus of these bird minstrels, which ornithologists and academics  attributed to the intrusion of network towers and other contemporary hazards. Once taken for granted, their absence now leaves a lasting impression on our souls and serves as a sobering reminder of the frailty of nature’s symphony.As the season of mulberry was called off,  the ethereal, creamy-hued mulberries would tenderly mature a fortnight following the sowing of paddy seedlings. Dubbed the “Doodi Tuil,” by us as we don’t  have enough knowledge about this very tree (Moras Alba) this arboreal marvel signaled the closure of mulberry season. Enthusiastically, we flocked to its boughs, often encountering novices from neighboring domains amidst the gathering

Currently, as I traverse the thoroughfare, it is disheartening to see that the electric cable is being attached to the luscious mulberry tree and unfortunately the mulberries languish upon the pavement, their vibrant hues staining the path, bereft of the merry laughter of children or the whimsical chirping of birds. Save for the scarce mynas, resilient enough to withstand the deleterious emissions of the ubiquitous network towers. The progeny, ensconced in the digital allure, eschew the tangible joys of foraging for nature’s bounty, preferring instead the ephemeral delights of virtual realms, thus forsaking the enchantment of authentic engagement with the world around them.May the progeny of today revel in the abundant wonders of nature, just as we once savored its earthly delights.

• The writer is Ganderbal based columnist who hold master’s degree In zoology. X- @peermohdamir

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