No Regrets

A sapling had just pushed out of the ground. It takes enormous effort to push through the earth. It is the same effort as it takes a chicken to hatch from the egg. It takes all of that effort, but if truth be told it is one effort that I willingly made, to push through the earth and to see the world above. I stood there at awe. 

Not that I had not seen it before. I came from the same soil, the same earth, but this was a new life and new lives are exciting. I looked around, I was mostly alone in a barren piece of land. I was what they call a weed, but I did not know that. The terrain was rocky and crumbly and tilting to one side. Stones just rolled freely down the slope now and then. Some would hit me and change it's course. Others just  stayed back within my little branches. Some were big enough to hurt me and if I was lucky enough, none would be big enough to injure me fatally, till I grew old enough to not be bothered by them. 

The other weeds near me were just as content as I was. After all there was hardly anything for us other than warning each other of a possible threat, through our root system, bask in sun and enjoy the view, whatever it be. The choice to enjoy or complain was ours, the view was offered to us. One night it rained heavily, all my branches twisted and broke. I was left with one tiny leaf on my side. I was sure I would die, how would a plant my size breathe and eat with just one leaf? But I pulled off. I saw that whole season. Since it kept raining, the leaves had no problem shooting out and pulling me up. But we plants don't fear dying. We only avoid it. We avoid it when we can. But we don't mourn death. It is how we are made. 

Soon I discovered I would not really have flowers. I was a barren plant, I was disappointed, but not sad. I would have loved to have flowers, but it did not matter to me to not have any, I was there that is all. 

Once a man came trudging up the slope. A heavy bag on his back; listless, restless like the stones which roll down the slope. He just kept walking up, up and up, as if he had a purpose. We weeds were really inspired by him. He was so sure, so certain of what he wanted. He was not exactly going like the stones, nothing would change his course. We saw him falling, hurting, tired and hungry, but he did not stray from his chosen path. In plant kingdom, we live care free, not for a purpose but just because it is a gift to live with. This was new for us, so the plants right from the foot of the slope, were relaying news about him. 

Weeds up the slope were eagerly awaiting to see the saint. He appeared to be a saint to us. He came and sat right next to me on a rock. One of those which kept rolling down the slope. He sat on it to rest. But at that moment there was a mild tremor and the rock moved. It was big enough to disempower the saint. The rock rolled and dropped the saint down the slope. It then rolled over me and killed most of me and then kept rolling and fell on the saint. The rock became red. 

We waited for one or two of the saint's leaves to come out to save him. But he remained silent. We waited for his roots to ask for help, so we could send nutrition, but he remained silent. No one came for him. He remained under the rock and decayed. That is when we learned that, this man had no-one and he was going nowhere. We understood he was not a saint, he was in search of something he did not have.

I pulled out of the rock injuries. The next summer however brought dryness which I could not take and I dried up, I died. I was with my family and I was never going anywhere or seeking anything. So my death completed a cycle I had come to live. I happily left the world.