I grew up in a small town, surrounded by natural reserve forests..when you grow up in such an atmosphere, you begin to imbibe the language and colours of the foliage around you somehow, and every once in a while you end up being what others call the tree whisperer.

The cityscape teaches us to colour everything in a particular sameness. We're all dolls of similar shapes, lives, and death-often speaking the same thoughts in different languages. My entire summ...er vacations were spent walking through forests, identifying leaves and roots. The forest teaches you to respect the presence of the unknown, of magic- like a little foolish unnecessary dream in a world full of complications.

Much later in life a friend materialized. Over sporadic conversations, he had said he was writing a novel on pre Biblical era trees that talk to each other in a secret language. It was wonderful to even think about it and believe in it. My friend vanished, but my faith did not diminish. And at times, with little incidents of life here and there,  I'm reminded of the belief in that little bit of unknown yet again.