The nomad of different lands

Cursed to be one of its kind, the night queen of the modern world, and born with the golden scars, my life is full with roots of curiosity and exploration.

It all started in my early 1000s, when I woke up at 6:00 in the evening from the murmuring of locals and strangers, wearing a long white coat. They were trying to reach out to my roots, when the person in the white coat said, “This tree is quite old”, and to which I thought, “I am still a teenager!”

The god’s dearly ornament, my blossoming beauty.

They continuously tried to scratch my body, hovering around and trying to grasp my beauty, that blossoms in August. Some took it away while some of those white coat walkers wondered about my existence in the Indian subcontinent saying, “It is not an Indian species.”

A part of my mind went into shock and as the clock ticked 06:00:00 a.m., I found myself submerged under the ‘Ocean of Milk’, scared and hesitant (Samudra manthan). Trying to find a place to rest, a huge wave of the ocean led me over where I could see the water churning and Devas welcoming me to the enchanted adobe as the “Kalpvraksh”, a wish-fulfilling tree.

Exhausted from the journey, I tried to open my eyes and was surprised to find myself in a heavenly garden (Indra Lok) surrounded by the most beautiful creatures, golden body, young sprouting clothes of copper color, and numerous clusters of fragrant fruits.

Sub-Saharan roots travelling all the way from heaven into the modern world.

But, the “happily ever after”, at the end of the stories always lead to a new beginning. Since then, the devas fought to lay a claim over my beauty, of which Lord Krishna won over Lord Indra. My heavenly experience froze and I was tired from the journey to Dwarka when suddenly…………….

The clock ticked 6. It was the first stroke of dusk and my energy blossomed with pure white flowers and the blazing orange hearts, finding the locals gathered around white coat walkers explaining that, ‘Parijat tree, 45-50 feet long and 10 m wide, has been planted in early 14th century by someone traveling from Sub-Saharan Africa to India.’ The natives rebelled, some said, “It is the gift from our gods”, the other said, “It fulfils the distinct desires and wishes in all the three Aras, it has to be Indian.” Some others said, “This tree had sprung up from the Earth proving valuable to satisfy the longevity of its deities.” They laughed, but all I can say is, “Some believe and some don’t, but stories and your beliefs have created a sense of connection between us.”

Different times, different stories. My head felt dizzy, I could see the clock but blurry. Opening my eyes, I was on my way to Earth when Lord Krishna told me that, I was a princess devoted to Surya, the Sun God, with all my heart. Persuaded to follow his path, it left me burnt during summers. The gods then reincarnated me as a tree, named Parijat, from my ashes.

My precious golden scars.

After landing in his empire, confused about how to make both his wives happy, I was uprooted onto the garden where my flowers fell into Satyabhama’s garden as well as into Rukmini’s windows. Thinking about what Lord Krishna just told me and the scars it gave to not able to see Lord Surya again, made me realize the golden scars I have.

Déjà vu, is that how it is pronounced? Maybe, but I found myself submerged in water, with the same scary feeling battling with times and places. The next, I opened my eyes, I was in the enchanted adobe again…….

It was not only fruits, but I was cursed of happiness. It was another battle to which I thought I was re-imagining, but this time Indra said, ‘No Arjun, you have to fight.” However, I had to travel to the modern world, uprooted in Kintur near Barabanki.

Believe it or not, I sometimes feel sinking deep into the water where all stories battle to be true, showing me different versions, different people, different lands.

Can you feel the stories in form of faces engraved within my body?

“After all, I am a native of the enchanted Indian land! “

“This is not an Indian species, it is African.”

Battling with my thoughts on what to believe and whatnot, a child said, “the stories have different perspectives, different versions, and many different fundamentals, some being skeptical while some mythological, but the only constant about them is this 7000-year-old tree, witnessing not only different periods but this frozen clock pointing to 6 every night and day.”

That evening, the enchanted adobe within me got trapped forever, frozen in time, and I entered into the modern world.

The myths and knowledge are just the pawns of larger versions of your beliefs. Still not sure about my existence, but I stand here to welcome you to be part of my story with the type of character you want me to play!


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