The Mango Tree
written by: Subhodeep Chakraborty
When I was a kid,
There was a mango tree.
Not a big and shining one,
Not a small one either.
It was just a tree
Sick and weak fainted and pale
It was tired, just like me.
I used to go to the roof and stare at it.
It smiled at me.
We talked about many things for hours,
It completed me.
I wondered why it’s in a prison
Kept between big other trees,
There were many other trees.
Trees of flowers and fruits
To me, they were killing the mango tree,
I felt it, just like how I felt in my school
Imprisoned between beauty and worthy.
Maybe, the mango tree wasn’t worth enough to live.
Maybe some things are meant to die in pain.
I felt the loneliness of it, every day, every night.
But when I asked my mother,
About the tree.
She replied, “it used to give the most delicious mangoes I’ve ever tasted.
Soft like clouds, filled with flavours, sweet that’ll give you a heavenly feeling.”
One day,
One cold winter day.
When I woke up from the sleep,
When I woke up from a beautiful dream.
I looked outside in the garden.
The Mango tree was gone.
Died in a cold winter night,
All alone.
Sometimes I wonder why?
Why all the good things die?
Subhodeep Chakraborty
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