I said goodbye to an old friend today. She was a neem tree and for many years she stood tall and stately outside my boundary wall, casting a generous shadow under which smaller plants flourished, sheltered from the relentless heat of the sun.
Her shade reached well into my porch and every evening we would sit outside in comfort, breathing in the fresh air contributed in no small part by the wind moving through her medicinal leaves.
This neem tree gave of herself to every living creature in the vicinity.
Birds found in her a refuge from long flights. On her branches perched mynas, jambu tree doves, kingfishers and many others, bringing moments of delight as we identified them and spoke about them.
Sometimes we even spoke to them, hoping to quiet their noisy chatter while the babies slept and the adults rested, but of course to no avail.
Small birds found in her twigs a place to anchor themselves and their chatter woke us every morning.
Standing on my balcony, I would watch these little creatures and laugh quietly at the myriad noises they made, often wondering what messages they were conveying to one another.
The neem tree tolerated them all, perhaps with a smile, if trees can smile, seemingly content to host her companions and provide them with a safe place to go about their lives.
Occasionally a crested serpent eagle would perch on her higher branches, watchful and alert. Then, with a swoosh of majestic wings, it would take off, shaking the branch and disturbing the quiet for a brief moment.
At night, owls called from her recesses and sometimes we would catch sight of these elusive birds in the darkness, triumphant in our discovery.
It was not only birds that sought her branches. Squirrels scampered noisily up and down her trunk, chasing one another and leaping from branch to branch, much to the annoyance of the birds who would flit away until the commotion subsided.
Once, a family of civet cats was seen climbing down her branches after making their way from a neighbour’s roof, leaving behind a scent reminiscent of pandan leaves.
At other times, solitary civet cats used her branches to reach nearby wires, expertly navigating their way to unknown destinations.
The neem tree was a friend to all of them, offering respite by day and night, protection from rain and sun, never asking for anything in return. She simply stood there with open arms, welcoming and offering solace.
She came to us as a sapling, a gift from a friendly neighbour. Within a few years she had grown into a lush tree with beautiful green leaves and spreading branches.
My aged mother was overjoyed because she reminded her of the neem tree that stood in the front yard of her childhood home in India.
From my mother, we learnt of the medicinal value of the leaves. During chicken pox outbreaks in our home, when the children complained of itching, she would spread neem leaves on their beds to soothe their skin.
She warned them against scratching with their nails and instead gave them a leafy twig from the tree, teaching them to gently tap the itchy areas to ease the discomfort.
After the isolation period, they were bathed in water infused with neem leaves and turmeric powder, perhaps to rid the skin of the last traces of illness and help restore a body ravaged by chicken pox.
That bath marked a return to normal life and freedom from isolation. Through it all, the neem tree stood giving and healing.
During fruiting season, her branches would be filled with small yellow fruits and the number of birds that came to feast on them multiplied until it seemed there were more birds than leaves.
They hopped about on the ground searching for fallen fruits and our garden became a temporary bird park.
For hours we watched them enjoying and squabbling over the harvest. It was a feast for the eyes and we were grateful to the neem tree for providing such a spectacle.
Over the years, however, her leaves became less green, her flowers sparse and parasitic plants began clinging to her trunk.
I wondered what was wrong as I placed my hand on her bark, but she stood silent and weary while yellow and brown leaves scattered across our driveway and lawn. It was not normal, especially during the monsoon season when rain was plentiful.
Only much later did it occur to me that the frequent pooling of water around her trunk after heavy rains might have rotted her roots and caused her slow decline.
By then, she was already showing the unmistakable signs of a dying tree. Even though birds still occupied her thinning branches, she was clearly dying from the roots up.
With heavy hearts, we called the local council to cut her down, fearing that in her weakened state she might one day fall and endanger lives. She would have wanted that, I am sure, for it was never in her nature to cause harm.
They came, they cut and removed her, and all that remained was a stump where she had stood for 26 years. As I said goodbye, I thanked her for being such a wonderful friend to us and to the many creatures that had found shelter in her foliage. I was grateful to have known such a friend and for all the happiness she brought into our lives.
Goodbye, my dear friend. You taught us how to live a life in service of others. You will continue to live on in the stories I tell my granddaughter – stories of birds and civet cats and squirrels and, above all, a dear friend, my neem tree,
