The Old Banyan Tree

When Nadeem returned to his village after spending a long time of 30 years, his surprise knew no bounds. Instead of mud houses, there were brick huts, the village roads were paved, every house had gas and electricity connections, instead of bicycles, motorbikes and cars, and instead of bullocks used for farming, modern machinery… It was proven that his village had also developed with the passage of time.

Where there were no signs of a madrasa or school in the distance, now there was a mosque and a madrasa of every sect in the village. Separate middle schools for girls and boys for secular education were equipping the children with educational ornaments. There was a wave of prosperity everywhere.

Change was in full swing. Children did not have to go to the city to get education.

It was also heard that the villagers were demanding high schools as well.

This means that all kinds of consciousness had been awakened.

Nadeem was already exhausted after coming from Japan. After finishing breakfast in the morning, he would go for a walk in the village with the newspaper pressed in his hand. While passing through the streets, he would also inspect his fields, greet the farmers and return in the afternoon. One day, he made a plan to inquire about the well-being of his friend and slowly walked towards the north of the village where his friend lived.

It should be remembered that his friend, whom I am mentioning in particular, was an old banyan tree. Nadeem’s childhood was spent under this banyan tree. He grew up and grew up in the shade of this kind tree.

Because there used to be a primary school in this village earlier. The building of which was nominal. All the boys and girls of the village studied sitting on sackcloth in the shade of this tree.

Nadeem's late grandfather also used to tell us that son, this banyan tree was before we were even born. Since Nadeem regained consciousness, he had seen splendor under this banyan tree.

The barber used to sit in the shade of this tree, spread a sack, and do the hair cutting of children, shave adults, and cut their hair. The pakora maker would start making pakoras early in the morning, and his wife would cook them on the stove and send them. Where were the naans in those days?

This is the food of that time. Imran Lato's shop also used to be on one side. His shop was not that big, but everything for children, such as chewing gum, toffees, chips, miranda, chickpeas, lollipops, choran, and all sorts of things, were available. Whenever there was a school break, there would be lines of children at Lato's shop.

There was every kind of peace in the village. The old people who were idle would spread a mat on one side and play twelve branches. Nowadays, computer games have come.

On one side, there would be a card table. In the afternoon, Aunt Began would heat her oven. The children of the village would come to roast corn, chickpeas and rice. The whole day would be Eid under this tree.

Nadeem completed his matriculation as soon as possible. Now he had to head to the city for further education. But a distant relative of his advised him to get a paternity and visa and come to Japan with me.

Study here and work too. One panth and two jobs... Nadeem did that and he went to Japan. The land was sufficient. There was no fear of earning a living. Sometimes he would order expenses from home and sometimes he would earn it by working there.

After completing his education, he got a job there himself. He started getting a good salary and started sending money home.

He got married to a Pakistani girl in Japan and Allah Almighty blessed him with a blessing like children...

After spending 30 years, he made a plan to return to his village. He packed everything from Japan, took his wife and children with him, and one evening he came to his birthplace and made it beautiful. He was very happy about the prosperity of the village, but when he reached the bottom of the banyan tree, he saw that there was nothing there.

Development, or rather, rapid growth, cut down the tree, considering it useless, and the road became wide. Thus, the banyan tree, under whose shade happiness used to flourish, now only a bus stop remains. Everyone is busy with their own work. Two or three buses come from the city, which are called labor buses.

Boys, girls, and poor women from the village board them and go to the city to work.

People return home in the evening on these same buses after working in various factories. The changes in the village have made every person in the village like a machine. Nadeem, with heavy steps, fresh from the wounds of childhood memories, returned home, hiding his eyes from people, casting longing glances at the empty space of the banyan tree. Countless storms of memories stirred within him. He tried unsuccessfully to escape this storm until late at night. Then, he did not know when his eyes were closed and he went into the valley of sleep.