The Tree Soul Transplant
‘Plumeria Rubra’ the little voice whispered into my ears. I didn’t know much about trees but here we were, in sunny Pondicherry, at a rare event of transplanting a tree from an old house to a new forest. ‘A 100 years old he is.’, the little voice told me. ‘You are 32 and I am 6, so he is 37..50..65..’ the little voice went into a mumble as she calculated how much older the tree was to us. The tree is popularly known as the Frangipani tree, it is a small tree that grows to a height of two to ten meters. It has a thick succulent trunk and blunt branches covered with a thin grey bark. The branches are brittle, just holding them would break them into two. ‘Careful, the white stuff inside will make you itch and scratch all over.’ The little voice reminded me. The leaves are large and green and the flowers, a crimson dark red. I stared at the beautiful large tree overgrown into the corner of the 100 year old house that was about to be torn down and wondered how they were going to transplant this beautiful tree.
‘Transplanting the body of the tree is easy, it is transplanting the mind or soul or the inside part that is hard.’ The little voice told me. She was my guide through this all. She was all of 6, born and raised around a jungle, covered in soil all the time, her friends weren’t imaginary but were trees and birds and animals of all kinds. ‘I have talked to everyone except the ‘Cocos nucifera ( the coconut tree ). I need to get a little taller for that.’ She had told me earlier. She had seen more of the natural world in seven years than I had in thirty two.
‘The physical part is easy‘ the little voice reminded me. ‘You first make sure that the excessive roots are pruned a month in advance. Then make sure that the root ball is not eaten into. More of the root ball preserved, more chances of it surviving the journey. To be more precise, for every inch of trunk diameter, you need at least 10-12 inches of root ball diameter. Make simple soil tests on the place where it has lived all its life, and in the place where it is being put. Make sure you have enough sunlight and water provided in the new place, and dig a hole that allows the root ball to sit comfortably and adapt to its new surroundings.’ She finished with a triumph.
Overwhelmed by the information, and the fact that it all came from a very knowledgable 6 year old. I had no questions but one. ‘And how do you transplant the soul, and mind and the inside part?’ I asked.
She was quiet for a second and then said ‘I have been coming here every day for the past month, mostly to talk to the tree and to listen to him.’ ‘What does he say?’ I asked. ‘He doesn’t say much. I am doing most of the talking. ‘What do you tell him?’ I asked. ‘I told him not to worry and that I will take care of his root ball. I even decided to make a spare root ball with all the extra pruned roots.’ She replied. ‘Did he say anything at all?’ I asked. She hesitated for a second and then said ‘ I am only telling you this because your hair looks like a root ball. He said he’s worried as we are pruning his roots and digging the earth around him. His leaves are growing faster in this fear. I told him we are taking him elsewhere, a place safe for trees. He looked at me and said, Take a leaf or a flower, break a branch or tear my skin from my bark, but make sure the root is not stepped on or touched, that’s where my mind is, that is my soul, the thing that grows all of my insides and more. I promised him they won’t.’ She ended with a renewed sense of determination.
For the next three days I saw the little one, she whispered to the tree as they uprooted him whole. She sat in the truck with him, told him to close his eyes and warned him of bad roads. And then as they placed him in his new home, she told him to open his eyes and embrace the earth. She brought some soil too from his old home. It has been a month now, since the Frangipani tree was successfully transplanted to the Botanical Garden. You will find her there, every single day, taking care of the tree, or sleeping under it. One day, I didn’t see her, I asked a Gardner where she was. ‘She’s probably dug a hole and is sitting inside while hugging the roots.’ He joked. If you go to the Botanical Garden, look for the oldest Frangipani tree of them all and there you might see her, or at least a little board with the name of the tree and her name, right alongside. ‘ Plumeria Rubra’ ( Norah )
Written By Naveed Mulki
Illustration By Soumya Basnet