My Cashew Tree

My yard: a view

Cashew boughs overhang my front yard screening the morning sun’s intense rays. Summer in Kerala is not what it used to be. It penetrates the marrow of your bones and saps you dry. Nature metamorphoses into something like an obscene speech from a querulous politician who is obsessed with menstrual blood or murderous patriotism.

The cashew tree stands just outside the yard wall spreading its graceful foliage over the yard. The sight has a rare charm especially because some of the branches bend low, almost touching the ground, in unabashed humility; absolutely unlike our politicians.

It has not been easy to create the natural charm around home though the cashew tree did not ever demand my attention as did most of the smaller plants. As I stood admiring the cashew tree this morning, I realised how much time I spend every day with my plants. They require tender care particularly in summer. They need regular supply of water and protection from pests of all sorts. From the sun too, in some cases. I give them time. Being with them is much more rewarding than following contemporary politics.

The cashew tree doesn’t need any attention, though. It continues to put out new shoots and remains refreshingly green as ever irrespective of the weather. Shine or rain makes little difference to it. I wish to be as indifferently fresh, as cool, unmoved by the over-politicised contaminations in my country.