'I will never forget my special tree'

"If someone were to ask me what I miss most in my homeland, without any hesitation I would say the trees that surround my grandpa's home in Kerala," says Shemeem Shafik, a Dubai-based homemaker.

"As a child I grew up in my maternal grandpa's home. Vayichi [Grandpa] had a vast amount of land surrounding his home filled with more than 25 different types of trees – from peepal to tamarind. This meant that at any given season we would have trees in blossom with myriad beautiful flowers and others full of fruit.

"Of these, one particular tree influenced my life quite significantly," says Shafik. "It was an old guava tree that stood in our backyard. Vayichi, who was a tree lover, used to tell the story of this plant to us and this is how it goes:

"Once a friend of his who was a passionate traveller brought him some different types of guava from a faraway place after one of his journeys. After consuming the fruit, grandfather preserved the seeds from all the guavas and buried them. A few sprouted into saplings and this guava tree was one of them. Its place of origin was unknown, which added to its allure.

"The most distinctive feature of this tree was that it would always bear guavas, regardless of the season. Over time, it grew into a sturdy, weathered friend without any real care, routine fertilisation or watering."

Yes, a friend. Shafik considered the tree as a friend rather than a plant, a 'he' rather than an 'it'.

"The extent of his branches never ceased to amaze me … they leaned over towards the ground so we could stand on our tiptoes and pluck the fruit," she says.

"Ever since I was a little girl, I would climb up the guava tree and munch on the green, seedy fruit while swinging my legs. I enjoyed myself up there for hours on end.

"And many a time, he saved me from the wrath of my mother too!" she adds. "She would chase me with a cane when my pranks pushed the limits. I would scamper straight up the guava tree and fly up the branches like a little monkey, going higher and higher. Then I would sit up there, listening to her angry words and giggling at the thought of being unreachable! She would eventually give up, uttering a few final harsh words to the tree for harbouring a fugitive. Whereupon, I would sit on a branch, swing my legs and munch on guavas until her temper cooled down.

"During my holidays I used to spend most of my time up this tree. I would take my books up and study there. The tree grew in such a way that it almost seemed to arrange its branches to accommodate me. One particular spot with a criss-cross of branches was such a comfortable resting area that I'd sometimes nap there.

"When I was about 14 some mischievous children from our neighbourhood started plaguing the tree. They would shake it incessantly and knock it with sticks to dislodge the fruit. The first time I caught them doing this, I was furious! Not only were they hurting my dear friend, but all those shakes and beatings yielded unripe fruit!

"Yet shooing them away did no good. They would only return later when no one was about. The next day, I spoke to one of our househelp. I told him I would pay him Rs15 to guard the tree until I returned from school. He did this for four months until the children got tired of stealing the fruit and moved on to some other form of entertainment.

"But despite how many guavas other people would pluck from it, when I climbed up I always found a few fruit hiding among the bushy leaves. And I would always pluck them with a smile and wonder if my friend had hidden them from the others!

"My bond with this tree grew stronger and stronger. Over the years it became a part of my life. To emphasise my ownership of the tree, I carved my name on its trunk in bold letters, big enough that it would be visible from a few steps away. It took me nearly two days to finish my artistic endeavours.

"The years rolled on and I got married in 1995. When I had to leave for the UAE a year later, leaving my friend the guava tree seemed as difficult as leaving my family. The strange thing was that soon after I left, the tree started yielding less fruit. And the few that it did yield were infested with worms and inedible.

"When I returned home on my vacations, before I would go into the house, I would always rush to the backyard to see how my friend was and what changes he had weathered since I saw him last. I missed him so!

"Then a few years ago, several days after I had returned from a holiday I received a call from my mother. After some initial chitchat, she told me quietly that the tree had been cut down. Apparently one of my cousins had fallen from it and had fractured his arm. In a bout of rage, my grandfather had ordered it to be cut down immediately!

"I was heartbroken. I couldn't eat or sleep for a few days. For a while I didn't even want to go home. I couldn't bear to see the empty space in which my dear friend once stood. But eventually, when I did go home I saw a stump standing there. And just below the deep gashes made by the axe was my name in bold capital letters – 'SHEMEEM'.
"I miss him so."