'The Old Sycamore Tree'

Mr. Oliver usually visits the park at dawn but this evening he wants to be close to this old sycamore tree in the park. The serenity of the tree assuages his pain and today, being his wife's death anniversary, he needed to be closer to the old sycamore tree.

 

The tree is located at the east entrance of the park. There is a bench located right under it. Nobody sits under the tree because it’s close to the entrance and the city road runs right outside it.

 

Mr. Oliver wanted to reflect on a number of issues alone but when he enters the park, he sees a lady, in her mid-30s, sitting on the left end of the bench. She was dressed like one of the joggers. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be in a state of trance. 

 

Mr. Oliver was laden with languor of his disquieted mind, and so decided to sit on the other end of the bench quietly. The lady didn’t notice. 

 

After a few minutes, a young boy nosily impinged on the bench, between Mr. Oliver and the lady. The lady is brought to complete wakefulness by the young boy. She sees the two strangers next to her and her impulse is to leave but the look of the sullen young boy forces her to stay longer.

 

“Is everything alright dear? Why are you upset?”, Mr. Oliver says in the most compassionate manner. Ever since his wife passed away, people have only seen Mr. Oliver as a grumpy old man. But this boy instilled a mixture of feelings Mr. Oliver once had for his own children.

 

The boy plainly says, “Everything is fine. I am alright.” 

 

At this the lady says, “Hi! I am Roseanne. I have two children who are just little older than you. I am pretty sure what sad boys look like and you are definitely sad.” 

 

The boy says, “Hi! I am Stephan. You two look sad too. Just like this sycamore tree. I will tell you why I am sad if you tell me first.”

 

Roseanne is a stay-at-home mom and she comes out to run after her kids go to play at a neighbor’s home. She runs for 25 minutes straight every evening and then sits under the sycamore tree. Her house is at the other end of the park but she chooses to sit under this tree so that she can cover the extra mile to reach home, ensuring she gets more calories burnt. Over the months, Roseanne has started feeling connected to this old tree. She wants to imbibe all the energy it has. She feels the tree is sad because it is lonely; neglected by all; not appreciated for all that it can give. And yet, it selflessly stands to do its duty without anyone noticing. She feels it is her story. 

 

It was a long time ago when somebody asked Roseanne why she was upset. Most people just looked past her. But this evening, the boy’s conjecture of sadness makes Roseanne smile. She has never met a young boy who is as perceptive as him. 

 

Mr. Oliver feels he might be an intruder to the conversation and so decides to leave. He gets up but the little boy holds his hand and says, “My grandfather is in Namibia. When we were leaving home to come here, he didn’t cry but he looked like you. I think, like him, you are trying to hide your sadness but you, too, are certainly sad. Sit and tell us.”

 

At this Roseanne says, “Yes, please do. After all we are strangers. We have no judgements or biases against each other. And yet I feel we are connected somehow. Everyday hundreds of people visit the park. They all come from different walks of life. They all share different stories. But the people who choose to sit under this old sycamore tree are few. Let us appreciate our bond of this old sycamore tree and talk.”

 

Mr. Oliver reticently sits and stares straight ahead. Stephan looks at Roseanne with great anticipation in his eyes.

 

Roseanne starts by saying, “I am married to an investment Banker. We married very young and I decided to take care of the children while he works. I gave up my job and he worked up the job ladder, while I stayed home taking care of the kids. My kids are quiet grown up now. They don’t need me as much as they needed before. I love them but I have never known a life outside them. I just run alone every day to clear my head but I don’t think its working anymore. Today when I told my kids to complete their homework, they simply said that I should focus on dinner and not their lives. Is this what I am?”  

 

She is distraught, but continues, “I have been contemplating many options and one of them is to go back to work. But it’s easier said than done. I left work years back. The job scenario has changed. The floundering economy doesn’t afford many viable avenues for me. Moreover, my husband thinks that the wife of an Investment Banker should not engage in menial jobs.”

 

Stephan, in a dejected tone, says, “I don’t know if I can say anything meaningful that would help you.” He then looks at Mr. Oliver, thinking he could intercede on his behalf. Mr. Oliver felt the pressure to say something and so he says, “I feel like you know a way out. I just don’t know why are you looking for a job that pays money. If you really think that getting a menial job with poor pay will make your husband feel less of a man, you can definitely look up for some volunteering work.”

 

Roseanne is in awe of the advice the old man gave. Her mind starts deliberating on it.

 

Stephan turns to her and says, “See, this man is so wise! I feel like it is helpful to you.” He then turns to Mr. Oliver and says, “What is your story?”

 

Mr. Oliver wasn’t a fan of sharing feelings. He wants to keep things to himself but Roseanne says, “Sir, the boy will not share his story until you share yours.”

 

Mr. Oliver takes a deep breath and says, “I am Oliver. I am 59 years old. I am a widower. I stay all alone at the home my wife and I had built. My kids have moved abroad for work. They have their families there. They haven’t visited me for past two years. When I ask them to visit me here, they make excuses. I have made my peace with the fact that my life is limited to my job, my home and this old sycamore tree. Every day I take a stroll in the morning and sit under this beautiful tree. It seems to help me complete my chain of thoughts. It helps me gain perspective. The white bark spells out peace for me. I might sound crazy but with each leaf that it sheds around me, I feel like my wife is using her prestidigitation to communicate with me, trying to ensure I smile once in a while.” 

 

Mr. Oliver smiles at the thought of his wife, but soon his temper shifts to a morose one. He continues, “Today is the death anniversary of my beloved wife. And the day just got murkier when my boss reminded me that I am going to retire this fall. Life surely kicks you hard when you are down. Now, I don’t know what my life would be after I retire. I might become a forlorn vagabond.”

 

Mr. Oliver pauses to let out a sigh. He is trying really hard to fight back his tears. Roseanne could sense it. She wants to help him. She knows Stephan is too young to fathom the pain Mr. Oliver is going through. She says, “I understand. But perhaps, your solution is same as mine- engaging in volunteering work.”

 

Mr. Oliver starts thinking about it. There is a long silence. The cicadas can be heard in the background. As the sky grows darker, the cacophony of vehicles outside the entrance is washing out. The shadows of people walking in the park is fading too.

 

Roseanne breaks the silence by saying, “I don’t know how much effective the advice is. I myself am flabbergasted at the kind of work that I can render.” At this point, Mr. Oliver interjects, “Maybe we can start a club under this old sycamore tree. It is one of the least crowded places in the park and won’t be of any inconvenience.”

 

Roseanne says, “A club? You mean like a book club? I am sorry but I am not much of a reader.”

 

Mr. Oliver says, “No. Not a book club per se. For instance, I like playing chess. Maybe I can coach a few people and teach them how to play chess. If they already know it, they can just simply come and play. This can be pro tem club. We can later expand it to something like paintings and what not.”

 

Roseanne jumps on the bench and says, “I love chess. I could join you too.”

 

The jauntiness of Mr. Oliver and Roseanne adds a new vigor to the air. It even makes Stephan become a blithe young boy. Mr. Oliver and Roseanne turn to Stephan. They see he is happy; the way children should be. Roseanne tells Stephan, “You are surely our star.” Stephan is elated. 

 

Mr. Oliver says, “Now, you tell us why did you come here looking so gloomy?” 

Stephan says, “Like I said, I moved to this country from Namibia one year back with my parents. My parents work all day. I look after myself and so I don’t find time to make friends. Everyday around 4 p.m., after my school, I come and sit under this old sycamore tree.”

 

Stephan turns to point outside the entrance and says, “ My house is just across the street. I have always felt this tree is my only friend here.” He then turns back and continues, “Today my teacher asked the class to write an essay on how we have helped a friend recently. As I sat to do my homework, I realized I have nothing to write about. So I decided to come and sit closer to my only friend.”

 

He pauses and then, in a buoyant manner, he says, “Who could have thought I would find you two and help, inadvertently? Can I call you my friends? Can I write about this evening in my essay?”

 

Mr. Oliver and Roseanne say in unison, “Most certainly.”

 

Stephan smiles and says, “Thank you. And, I love chess too. My grandfather taught me the game on the chess board he had himself made. He had carved out the wood to make the chess pieces. After your club starts, may I come and play in your club?”

 

Mr. Oliver says, “I surely hope you do. After all, Oli-ste-ro Club would be incomplete without Oliver, Stephan or Roseanne.”

 

Roseanne and Stephan chuckle. Stephan says, “Lets brainstorm more until fall over the name of the club.”

 

The somber dusk was now lit by the laughter of three strangers, who were united by the old sycamore tree.

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