TOUCH WOOD

Went out hunting for a desk.
 Landed up roaming around various localities of Pune just to enjoy the lush greenery.
 When large banyan or other heavily foliaged trees meet at the top forming a skywalk across the road, I am so tempted to linger awhile in the shade of the canopy stretching across. It beckons me to pause a little in the daily humdrum of life, hurtling towards the end at breakneck speed.

Ever since I was a little girl ,travelling along the Grand Trunk Road  around my hometown in Punjab, was such a delight, because of the huge trees lining it. To my child's mind it seemed a certainty, that Sher Shah Suri ,the great Mughal had planted each of those trees with his own hands and came to water them daily, because he got that road built !

The shapes I would conjure up in the mazes of those branches and leaves, swaying to the music of the breeze, would fire my imagination further still. The bus would rapidly swish past the trees, in rapid succession and my imagery would run  the pictures  through like a comic strip. I could see the pixies, elves, and gnomes scrambling all over, in and out of their homes concealed in those huge tree trunks, by the thick screens of aerial roots. A few fairies could be seen prancing and dancing amongst the green and gold leaves, just for the joy of it. Others, busy doing errands ,were seen scurrying around from branch to branch swinging from the  dangling rope like offshoots. Yet, there were some who saw me smiling longingly, and waved to reassure me that one day I could  join them. Occasionally a knight in shining armour would ride by my bus window on his white steed and I would hurry to follow him, lest I  miss  the adventure.

My reverie was brought to an abrupt end when my driver gruffly asked me where exactly I wanted to go. I gave him the address, disgruntled at his audacity in interrupting my thoughts.We drove around  to a number of stores but the modern day tables did not appeal to me. They were  lifeless and lacked character. I wanted one, which could share with me many hours of togetherness;  live those moments, with as much joy and sorrow as I did, when the characters in my writings smiled or sorrowed. 
Tired of hunting in showrooms and malls, I walked into a roadside antique  shop. The sales man showed me some furniture, which made me nostalgic, reminding me of my childhood, when such designing and craftsmanship was the norm. I wandered around in the shop, admiringly  touching the carving on the edge of  a table here ,the brass handles on a chest of drawers there, but couldn't see any writing table.
 Disappointed, I thanked the salesman, turning to leave, when my eye fell on a patch of  carving and inlay work on the corner of some piece of furniture, behind a door. Stepping in, I saw a writing desk just the size, shape and design, that I wanted for my den. I looked at it lovingly wiping off the dust, stroking and admiring each line, grain and striation on the polished  teak wood. My fingers could feel the songs it sang, of  the years it stood rooted into the earth, when a majestic tree. I bargained over the price, bringing it down to my budget and paying some advance ,asked for a quick delivery.

Tired but thrilled over my acquirement, I waited to cross the road, when I glimpsed the excited face of a little girl, peering out of a passing car window as she pointed to the dense clumps of  roadside trees, excitedly saying something to a companion. 

Getting into the car, I asked the driver to stop at a nursery where good tree saplings could be bought.