It was a clear February day when I went for a trek in the Aravalli hills. The weather was just right — neither too hot nor too cold. As I walked through the rocky paths and dry bushes, I kept observing the small details around me: old trees, half-dried shrubs, and the sound of my footsteps on fallen leaves. Everything felt quiet, but alive in its own way.
I noticed how different the surroundings looked now compared to the monsoon days. Earlier, the plants were fully green with fresh leaves, but now most of them had turned brown and dry. It seemed like someone had done a “brown magic” on the plants.
After walking for some time, I started feeling tired. My water bottle was half empty, and my legs were asking for a break. That’s when I saw it — an old, majestic banyan tree, standing silently near a small kund (pond). There was a simple stone bench under its wide shade, so I quietly sat down, stretched my legs, and took a deep breath.
The pond was still, with water so dark it looked almost blue-black. The khejdi trees cast their shadows over the water, and I noticed two turtles slowly swimming, leaving behind gentle ripples. Just then, a shepherd passed by, leading a small herd of goats. He wore a simple kurta-pyjama, a gamcha around his head, and carried an axe in one hand and a water bottle in the other. The goats, with bells around their necks, jingled softly as they moved, following him in a steady rhythm. The goats drank water from the kund and then sat beneath the banyan tree for some rest. Just beside the pond, there was an old Hanuman temple.
I sat there, watching everything silently. Slowly, I started noticing things I wouldn’t have if I were in a hurry. A small stream flowed out from the kund. Near it, two mongooses were running about, curious and quick. The dry grass and babool trees nearby were shining golden under the soft afternoon sun. Some golden and white butterflies fluttered over the shining grass.
I had seen many trees before, but this one felt special, like it was alive in a different way. The banyan tree stood there, its thick roots spreading out in all directions. Some of its branches hung low, reaching down towards the earth. Small reddish-orange fruits were hanging from its branches. Many birds and squirrels were jumping around, fighting over those fruits. The whole tree was full of life, so many types of birds chirping, squirrels running up and down its trunk, and even honeybee hives hanging from some branches. It was like a mini-world of its own, buzzing with activity. Everything about the banyan felt timeless, as though it had seen generations come and go.
I suddenly realised this one tree is not just a tree. It’s an entire ecosystem. It gives food, shelter, safety, and a place for so many creatures to live and thrive. I could feel a connection like I was sitting inside nature’s own home.
As I sat there, the calmness around me made me reflect on life. I had come for a simple trek, but this place made me stop and feel something deeper. I realised how often we rush through life, missing the simple yet powerful moments that can teach us so much. Just like the banyan tree, which stands still and provides for so many, we too need to slow down and understand that life is about the small, everyday things that unfold in front of us; we only need to pause and notice.
No wonder people call the banyan tree a Kalpavriksha, a wish-fulfilling tree. It gives without asking, providing food, shelter, and wisdom. In the same way, nature offers us everything we need to live and grow if only we take the time to stop and listen.
In our fast-paced city life, we rarely notice such natural wonders. But sitting under that tree made me realise that until we observe nature closely, how can we truly understand life? We often miss out on life’s deeper meanings because we’re too busy running after things that aren’t as important as we think.
That one afternoon under the banyan tree became a moment I’ll never forget. It didn’t just give me rest, it gave me a fresh way to see the world, a reminder that life unfolds in its own time, and sometimes, it’s worth just sitting back and observing it.
All photos by Govind Sharma
About the Author: Govind Sharma is currently pursuing my Master’s in Botany. He loves exploring nature, reading books, and travelling. Being in nature’s lap often inspires him to write.
