I had seen it an umpteen number of times before. But it presented a unique sight that evening. I watched its grandeur in amazement. It stood there austere and virile like a stalwart guarding its own premises. It looked wonderful.

Its roots were firm and strong in the ground adorned by tufts of dry grass. They reminded me of a grand old man who was so well rooted to his culture and convictions that it was well-nigh impossible to pull him away.

It had a gargantuan trunk replete with fissures and orifices with squirrels and chameleons rushing in and out. It resembled the body of the grand old man ruthlessly wrinkled out by Father Time. I am sure each of the wrinkles had a plethora of tales to narrate.

Its branches were a beautiful burnt sienna which looked mesmerizing against the vermilion hue which had turned an iota darker. They ramified repeatedly to give the appearance of a marquee. A few were as straight as a saint's path of life. Another few were twisted initially but straightened out towards the end reminding me of those who started out on the wrong foot but eventually found felicity. Some branches were no more than crests and troughs of wood. Still others got badly entangled with other branches midway never to come out of the tangle. I wondered how people of that kind ended up.

The sun in its painting spree never knew when he painted the green leaves in a darker vermilion than before. This fusion lent a most unreal colour to them. But I knew it was going to be off in a moment. I was reminded of the peoples, who pretend so well to have blended with the national colour as to make everyone believe. But no sooner does the night of communalism, casteism and the likes arrive than the original colours show.

I wondered how such beautiful sights could remind us of so many things we never bother to think about, how busy could we get so as not to notice things as lovely as loveliness itself, where exactly are we headed without having a few moments for our Mother Nature? I couldn't help remembering William Henry Davies and his 'What is life if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare.'.

I was pulled out of my trance by the loud honking of a truck passing by. The sun had by then changed its mind and painted everything all over again in copper. What I was gazing at now was a mere silhouette. Capturing it in my mind's eye, I walked back into our indifferent world again.