Melody of fallen leaves on Chaitra day

The arrival of Chaitra, the last month in the Bengali calendar, reminds one of the cyclical nature of death and birth. During this period, nature reflects these two constant truths of life. On the one hand, the fallen leaves are left to lie in nature. Fallen leaves mean death, memory and the sound of passing footsteps. Deciduous trees shed their leaves and become empty. Piles of dry leaves accumulate under the trees. The color of those leaves is like milk tea, and sometimes those leaves are dark brown like peanut shells. As soon as you walk over them, the siren of nature rings out. In the quiet afternoon of Chaitra, evergreen trees also start shedding their old leaves like bird feathers.

They also come and gather with the dry leaves accumulated under the trees, swaying and shaking in the wind. Perhaps a dove or a sad cuckoo sitting on a branch calls out to find its lost companion. With its call, the color of the faded dry leaves reminds us of the days left behind in life, of the lost loved ones. There is no deviation from this infallible law of nature. When Chaitra comes, I can hear the silent music of nature as soon as I open my eyes. Reaching at my sixty-three, sometimes I wish to say, "O the fallen leaves, I am also like you." The next moment, I get excited when I see the lively and energetic young people, and then I want to say again, "Nobo nobiner gahiya gaan, sojib koribo mohashamsan (The new song of the new generation / I will revive the great cremation ground)."

Along with this, I hear the new music of life, the opening of new leaves with joy and hope. My mind is open and looks with astonished eyes at the young green leaves, like the leaves of a bright arrow, at the flowers, at the fruits. I think, how happy life is. Leaving death behind, the chariot of life runs endlessly, none can stop it until it stops itself. Nature plays a wonderful game of change. Whenever Chaitra comes, I remember a poem by poet Sukanta Bhattacharya. He wrote this poem in approximately 1940 for the children's magazine edited by Bijankumar Gangopadhyay. The name of the poem was Chaitradiner Gaan. Although it was written for children, in that poem I find the emergence of life with new leaves on Chaitra, the madness of intense light.

Tibra alor unmadona
Chaitirater hothath howa
Amai dekhe bole,
Banani az sojib holo
Notun Fule fole
Ekhono ki ghume bibhor
Patai parai janai dol
Bodontorei hawa
Tomar nobin prone paren
Ke se alor joar ane?

(The sudden breeze of Chaitra night
called me and said,
Banani is alive today
with new flowers and fruits.
Is it still sleepy?
The leaves sway
the wind of spring.
Your new life, life, who brings the tide of light?)

Although it was not Chaitra night, I went out to see a village to understand this sense of nature. The Bhairab River flows past the market in Abhaynagar Upazila of Jashore. Shankarpasha Kheyaghat. Almost every Kheyaghat in Bengal probably has at least one banyan or ashwattha tree so that the travelers who come to cross the Kheyaghat can rest beneath. Three banyan trees, although a little young, spread their branches and leaves like umbrellas, shading the ground. I crossed the Kheyaghat in a boat and boarded a van. The van moved forward along Kodla Road. On both sides of the road were the shadows of trees, ponds, houses and fields. Red, plump telakuchar fruits hung from vines on some bushes, poison ivy and shikki trees in the ponds. The leaves of almost all the trees were gray with dust, the leaves were waiting to be cleansed by the rain. The boro paddy is now fully ready to harvest, with panicles peeking out from some of the clusters. In the aisles of those rural fields, native date palm trees, their leaves shaking in the spring breeze, and the young date palm fruits are nourished and weeping.

The banana leaves are waving their skins as if they are blowing the wind on the weeds of various kinds in their laps. Flowers have bloomed on those weeds. Two or four bright yellow flowers have bloomed in the thorny bushes, the foxtail flowers look like foreign poppy flowers. They are accompanied by small white flowers like nose flowers blooming in inflorescences like elephant trunks, the name of that weed is elephant trunk. Flowers have bloomed on the white and blood-red weeds, flowers have bloomed on the branches of the wild pepper, and they have borne fruit. In the paddy fields, the weeds of the wild nature have started competing with the rice plants by leaving their heads. On the roadside, Acalypha, Bandhane, Misridana, Asthma plant, Toothache plant, Cleome, Parthenium, Clammy Ground Cherry, Forest Brinjal and Jimsonweed plants have bloomed. The white flowers have faded and now they have taken the form of green fruits inside the red vine. I went down to Bunoramnagar village to see these weeds.

There is a century-old temple of Bunoswari Devi, the forest mother at Bunoramnagar village. The people of the Hindu community consider that goddess to be very awake and worship her with devotion every Saturday and Tuesday. Since it was Tuesday, I saw devotees there. A lot of people come there in the months of Baishakh and Jyaishtha, and a fair is held in the shade of the banyan tree. An ancient banyan tree has covered the entire temple. To give the banyan tree the status of a sacred tree, its gray-black trunk is being paid homage by smearing red vermilion and oil. Numerous pieces of bricks are hanging from the trunk like a tangle, or they are from vows. As soon as the vow is fulfilled, the vow-maker comes and opens them. Looking at the top of the banyan tree, I was overwhelmed with amazement. The bottom of the banyan tree is full of dry fallen leaves, as if the dry, dusty ground has been covered like a mat. People walk around the huge tree quite comfortably, and there are also shops selling papad, sherbet and chanachur. Another reason for amazement is how the ginko of such a big tree can be hidden in a seed as small as the head of an alpine lily.

The greatness of the creator is beyond our comprehension. Several gaps have formed in the ancient tree. Suddenly, my eyes caught sight of something like a snake stretching its neck and shaking its head from one of the holes. Vendor Hasan Ali, who was under the banyan tree, said, "Last year, a snake suddenly slithered in front of my shop. It stood there for a while, raising its hood. It was the goddess's place, so we didn't kill snakes, even the birds and insects in that tree. Everyone is afraid if it causes any harm.'

He said, 'The snake moved away after a while. We don't harm them either, I have never heard of them harming anyone. I thought the forest is still alive because there are tigers in the Sundarbans. Similarly, it is good that there are snakes in the trees, at least no one will dare to cut those trees out of fear.'

New leaves have appeared on the upper branches of the tree. The bright green leaves seem to be announcing the message of life. Leaving the banyan tree and the temple premises, I took the dirt road of the village. It was almost noon, the sun was blazing, the sky was azure-white, occasionally gray clouds were flying, a strong wind was blowing and dust was flying, the forecast of Kalbaisakhi. The peaceful shade of the banyan tree is made even more peaceful by a large pond like a bowl in the temple premises. Cows and people bathe in the pond at the same time. On the edge of the road, countless yellow oleander bloom like golden bells. Nearby is a Carandas Cherry tree. It is as if someone has sprinkled white powder on that sapota tree. The fragrant four-petaled white flowers bloom like stars.

Looking at an old white tree on the bank of the pond a little further away, a kind of magical feeling overwhelmed me. I don't know which artist can portray such a combination of colors in nature in a painting! How many different green colors are spread on the branches and leaves of that tree? The tree canopy looks like a mosaic in dark and light green colors. Two or four white fruits like brown round balls hang in the gaps. Nearby are a few Custard Apple trees. Many heart-shaped fruits are hanging from those trees, the barely green fruits have begun to spread a red hue, meaning they are ripe. A few pitraj or Rayna trees, one or two round fruits are on the trunks of the trees. Asami vines have entwined themselves in the bushes, there are chailata, khoksha and kakdumur trees. The branches are leafy, and green, soft, round, furry young fig fruits are coming out in bunches from the branches. Magpie-robin birds are dancing on the branches.

A bamboo bush is nearby. The ground of the bamboo bush is thick and covered with dry leaves. That bush is full of various wild plants. Among them, I found a bush of bijuphul, another name banarangan. This flowering tree is usually seen in the sal forest and hill forests. In the Chittagong Hill Tracts, the Chakmas, Marmas and Tripuras celebrate the New Year on the first day of Baishakh with the Baisabi ceremony. On the first day of the Baisabi or Biju festival, houses are decorated with these flowers, girls dress up and offer them to Buddhist temples. The Biju flower was found in the rural jungle of Bunorampur!

A villager, Hasina Begum, said that the flower that blooms in the forest at night exudes a wonderful fragrance. There are more of these trees in the forest of this village. The dry brown leaves under the bamboo bushes, the green trees and the white color of the Biju flower are like a familiar picture of Chaitra in Bengal. I took those pictures and started my way back. From afar, the sound of the temple drums and the sound of the bells of the bronze bells, the silent melody of the falling leaves, were still charming my ears.

Mritunjay Roy: Agricultural Scientist & Nature Writer