14:30 January 12, 2025, Roing, Arunachal Pradesh
I am sitting, staring at a large tree—the Khokon tree (Duabanga grandiflora). It is perhaps 30 metres in height and it reminds me of an umbrella: a unique one where each cloth of shade cascades down, so that each layer of branch provides the requisite cover for the branches below, like a layered parasol. I can illustrate this, but my amateur rendering would make the tree look worn and naked, inaccurately shredded of any protective layer.
These branches—dressed in a gown of splaying leaves protrude outward in a lazy droop that forms an arch. From this distance, the flowering at the tips of these branches resembles grape-green olives amid tufts of white that look like grated radish. The tree is taller than its neighbour, a solitary, gigantic stem of bamboo. In the mild wind, the branches gently sway from side to side like a ponderous elephant. The leaves—bathed in the sparkle of sunlight play with the shadows to create an effect of blinking.
Earlier this morning, a black-throated sunbird fluttered through its foliage, and the tree conducted its own symphony of birdsong. But now, beyond the tumble and gurgle of the Eze river behind the tree, I hear the tuneless croaking of a distant voice over a karaoke soundtrack of classic Bollywood melodies. Stubbornly, my naturally tone-deaf right foot seeks to keep rhythm.
By this tapping foot is a fern, and a clump of bamboo stems that seem to mimic the larger tree. They also droop, their bodies curving in a smooth arc reminiscent of umbrella architecture. My parasol for the afternoon is a thatched roof of straw, which the sun catches and outlines below on the grassy ground with all the geometric delicacy of a shadow. In the near distance, I see a hill that resembles a large floret of broccoli, or perhaps several florets clumped together.
Though I continue to feel the soft touch of the wind, the clouds above are indifferent to the cajoling speech of the breeze. They instead remain, standing—or hanging—listening to the cacophony below, resolute in their decision. I, however, will hope for a more silent evening when I might recommence my admiration for the large Khokon tree whose leaves sleepily blink amid the sinking orange sun.
Photo credits: Rohit Naniwadekar – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=67032968.
