The old man is a mere shadow of what he was and yet thousands bask in that shadow’s glory. He sits under the Pipal with solitude as his greatest companion and faith as his raison d’etre. His voice trembles when he speaks but resonates across the land, heard and revered. His eyes that in times long past went red with fury, striking fear in the hearts of men, are permanently red with the tears he has cried. Yet his gaze commands respect and submission. He is unsteady in his gait, yet many scramble to follow his lead. His shoulders are stooped under the weight that time and fate has deposited upon them but retain enough strength to keep his world together. Even though his vision is blurry and his hearing impaired, he sees and hears all that goes on and judges in accordance. His back is bent from delivering fragments of his soul into the earth but he continues to haul the load of the dynasty for he alone is worthy of it.
The Pipal is ancient, yet tall and majestic. It casts a dense shade under which life takes refuge from its enemies. It has a broad base with long, thick branches going up towards the sky, like arms outstretched in prayer. Within these branches lives a multitude of God’s creatures that cohabit in relative harmony. The Pipal has weathered many a test of time. Sometimes nature and sometimes man has attempted to try its strength. But it has withstood these tests with an unshakeable tenacity, with its roots remaining firmly planted into the land, even though it has lost some of its sturdiest branches. It continues to stand tall, a symbol of antiquated power and forbearance.
Many centuries ago, when the Sultan of Ghazni sacked the Temple of a Hundred Idols, a spiritual riddle presented itself to him. As his sword sprung back with a metallic clang when he struck a worshipper kneeling to an idol, the invader realized that in his immense devotion to the stone deity, the devotee himself had turned to stone. Such was his dedication to the god in his head; such was the metaphysical bond between the living and the lifeless, that one’s physical reality was entirely consumed by the other’s. The old man and the Pipal also present a riddle of transcendent spirituality, although somewhat of a different nature. In their story, it is not quite clear whose essence has permeated into whom. But if a crude verdict is to be given, it has to be said that the Pipal is nothing but the old man’s soul tearing out of the heart of the earth.
