In a lively village surrounded by green fields and the gentle flow of a nullah, lived a bright-eyed boy named Ali. Ali was curious, quick, and always buzzing with energy. His best friend was an ancient, sprawling Bargad tree that stood majestically at the edge of the village dera. Its aerial roots, thick as ropes, hung down like a wise old man’s beard, and its leaves rustled like secrets being shared.
The villagers believed the Bargad tree was very old and carried the wisdom of generations. They said it whispered secrets to those who listened with an open heart. Ali loved sitting under its vast shade, especially when a gentle breeze made its leaves dance. He was sure he could hear soft, murmuring whispers.
“The tree is talking to me, Amma!” Ali would declare, his eyes wide with wonder.
One sunny morning, as Ali sat beneath the Bargad, he heard a distinct whisper, “Sufaid… Sufaid… look for Sufaid!”.
“Aha!” thought Ali. “The Bargad tree wants me to find something white!” He jumped up and searched excitedly. He found a fluffy white feather, a chalky white stone, and even a tiny white butterfly. He proudly showed them to his mother. “Look, Amma! The tree told me to find Sufaid!”
Amma smiled. “That’s lovely, beta, but what will you do with them?”
Ali frowned. He hadn’t thought that far. The tree’s message seemed to stop there.
The next day, the whisper was different: “Neem… Neem… something from Neem!” (Neem is a tree with bitter leaves, often used for medicinal purposes).
Ali’s mind raced. “Medicine! The tree knows where the special medicine is!” He remembered his cousin was feeling unwell. He ran to the nearest Neem tree and tried to pull off handfuls of leaves. But they were too high, and he ended up with scratched hands and no leaves. When he told his Dadi later, she gently applied haldi (turmeric) to his scrapes.
“This Bargad’s whispers are confusing!” Ali grumbled to Dadi. “It tells me things, but it’s never quite right. I found white things, but for no reason. I tried to get Neem leaves, but they weren’t for me!”
Dadi, with her wise, twinkling eyes, stroked his hair. “Ali, my child, the Bargad tree is indeed wise. But its whispers are like the scent of rain, not like a direct command from the muezzin calling for prayer. To truly understand, you must not just hear the sound, but listen to the tune of nature. You must not just hear the whisper, but observe everything else happening around it.”
Ali looked puzzled. “What do you mean, Dadi?”
“The tree speaks in the language of the land,” Dadi explained gently. “When it said ‘Sufaid, Sufaid,’ perhaps it was not telling you to find white, but reminding you about the importance of cleanliness or a white dove flying nearby carrying a message of peace, if you had looked around properly. And ‘Neem, Neem’ might not mean for you to get leaves, but a hint about how the Neem tree itself might be swaying, indicating a strong wind is coming. You must look, listen, and think about everything else happening around the whisper.”
Ali decided to try Dadi’s way. The next morning, he sat very still under the Bargad tree. He heard a whisper: “Upar… Upar… look Upar!.”
Instead of immediately looking straight up, Ali looked around. He noticed a flock of sparrows fluttering agitatedly near the old clay pots villagers used to collect water. High up, a stray kite, broken from its string, was tangled in the Bargad’s branches, slowly unwinding and threatening to fall into the pots.
“Aha!” Ali thought. “The tree isn’t just saying ‘look up.’ It’s telling me to look up where something is about to fall!” He quickly fetched a long stick and carefully nudged the kite out of the branches before it could splash into the water pots. This time, the whisper made perfect sense!
A few days later, he heard a whisper, “Jaldi… Jaldi… don’t do Jaldi!.” Ali was about to rush to the bazaar with his father. He paused, looking around. The leaves of the Bargad tree were trembling, even though there was only a gentle breeze. The sky was clear, but he noticed the bakra nearby was unusually restless, pulling at its tether.
“The tree is telling me something about being careful, not just rushing to the bazaar!” Ali realized. He told his father, “Abbu, let’s check the cart one more time before we go. The Bargad feels uneasy.” They found a loose wheel nut that could have caused trouble on the bumpy road.
From that day on, Ali learned to truly listen to the Whispering Bargad. He understood that understanding meant putting together all the clues – the sound of the whisper, the way the wind moved the leaves, the actions of the birds and animals, the feel of the air, and even the subtle signs from the village mahool. He learned that patience was key, and that observation helped him understand the context of every message.
The Bargad tree continued to whisper, and Ali continued to listen, no longer just hearing sounds, but understanding the wise, intricate language of the world around him.
Moral of the StoryTrue understanding comes from active listening, careful observation, and patient thought, allowing us to grasp the full context of the messages around us.
