I remember a time when I evolved from a small plant to a huge tree. One of the forests of Kashmir was my real home. I was in a free state, enjoying life-spending it in freedom. I was the queen of all the trees. I was so happy that I thought,” I am the luckiest to live in this forest” it was true. I lured and whirled in my joyfulness.
Moreover, with the air around me, I had no sense of rotation of days and nights. Many birds would rest on my branches, and it would give me a sense of relaxation. However, I got so mixed up in my comfort that I forgot my real master.
One day, I was busy in my wholeness, when I suddenly noticed a not-much familiar face, walking toward me. It was not the face of a bird or an animal. This creepy looking thing had no fur on its skin but had some scary looking protection on him. I tried hard to remember but in vain. Finally, the moment of clarity had showered upon me; it was the same face that had planted me here in my childhood. It was a human.
I got lost in my fearful thoughts. I shivered like a man close to his death does. After he reached to me, he sat down under my shade and began to stare at my trunk. Then this creature got up, opened up his luggage, got his axe out and in no time my arms and legs were no more attached to me. Then he came for my trunk and after a while, my whole body fell on the ground. My joy-filled heart was now cold and numb.
The blood filled massive drops of tears fell like an incessant rain, but this stone hearted creature would not stop. The day ended like that. The dusk became dark and cold. He got up and walked his way back home.
I let a sigh of relief. I tried to sleep but could not. I just counted the stars and fixed my gaze toward the deep skies.
When the dawn descended, I heard footsteps approaching me. I looked on my right side and found few young men with tens of tools heading my direction. I had seen it coming.
These young men began to sift through me. After that, they changed their clothes and put me on one of my think branches. Then they took out a two-sided saw.
When the blade landed on my skin, it carved its way through it. The agonising pain hadn’t left me. Ruthlessly, and without stopping, they continued to make a cylindrical piece of log out of me. The blood was profusely oozing from the cut. However, that didn’t stop them from what they were doing. I looked at their faces but saw no sympathy for me. I was thinking for what sin of mine do I have to bear this pain?
My blood finished spilling, and I was dry. Lest did my silent pleas melt the hard-coded wax of their hearts. After that, they took me through the river and separated me from my friends.
While they loaded me on a boat, I looked towards my friends, and the last words that I could get out of my mouth were “Goodbye”. Some of my branches that were still attached to my logs of wood fell in the water and were tossing with the tips of big pent-up stones. At that time, I felt like the whole world was conspiring against me. After a week of the voyage, I finally reached a town. However, the environment there was not friendly. It was filled with large factories that emitted black smoke. I was kept in a store. I felt like a dead organism. The queen of all trees was now the queen of darkness.
One day, the door of the store opened, and I saw two men discussing something at the door. Then one of them came and examined me and then told the other man a few words and left. Then came two men who put me up on their shoulders and carried me to a shop. I thought that maybe my future was changing from wrong to right as I had got a friendly shopkeeper.
His name was Ahmed. He seemed to be a nice man. He took good care of me. He used to clean me now and then by his broom.
After a few days, his younger brother, Hussain, came and scrutinised me. Then he took his brother aside and whispered something in his ear. They laughed while glancing at me. I thought something was not right. My heart sank in despair. The two of them came close to me and began to measure my length and breath. After that, they took the pieces of me to the carpenter. I was dumbstruck “was he the same man who used to love me,” I thought.
The carpenter then took me into his workshop. While I was in there, I saw the shopkeeper handing some money to Ahmed. I looked on his face and saw a devil coming out. The devil that had been temporarily hidden behind niceness.
The carpenter came in and began to work on me with different but painful tools. When I looked toward the door, I saw Ahmed leaving. He left me there like I was always a commodity. Finally, after the hardships of a couple of days, I was free. I was transformed into a chair. “Really! a chair….huh?” I said to myself. Was this my destiny? I sobbed in the corner of darkness.
Then the carpenter took me to his showroom, polished and oiled me. I was beautiful. Seeing some of my beauty coming back, though, in another shape, I rejoiced in the hope of a brighter future now.
I was kept in a completely clean and shiny showroom, mostly made up of mirrors and glasses. Many people coming to the showroom would talk to the carpenter about me. Some would shout 300, some said 400, but I could not understand. Every day, I was cleaned, and at noon, the carpenter would take me to the shade. I was now so happy that I forgot every painful memory I went through.
However, happiness didn’t last long. On Friday noon, a man Kashmiri by his dialect and English by his clothes came to the shop. He carefully looked at every object in the shop and then, at last, came to me. He shook my arms a bit then looked at my chest and feet. Also, then he sat on me and began to press my arms tightly. I cried as loud as I could, but I was in his control now. At last, he called upon the carpenter and told him that I was a useful chair.
He then gave him INR 450 and left. Now I understood that this whole time the people who were shouting 400, 300 were just bargaining on my price.
The carpenter packed me in a box loaded me in a car to wherever they were taking me. Soon after the box was opened, I knew exactly where I was transported. It was a high school.
Then the school peon took me to the classroom where the door sign read, “10th class”.
I hoped that a nice and thin teacher would sit on me. However, when I peeped out from the door, I saw a fat, middle-aged man approaching the class. Now I was so afraid that the only words I could slurp out of my mouth were, “God help me”. This man entered the room, examined me with a smile and then sat on me.
He sat with his whole might and did not get up until he finished the topic. I was not interested in knowing his name, but I heard the kids calling him Nisar sir. He was a mathematics’ teacher. He was very aggressive. Whenever he got a chance, he would keep his left leg over my smooth shoulders. He would often get tired and would sit on me with his hands stretched out. However, the kids were no less crazy and aggressive. They would often use me as a tool while fighting against each other. I could not even rest for a minute.
One day while Nisar Sir was not present, the class representative, Moin, fell on me while walking on the floor ignorantly.
As Nisar Sir had already weakened me so much so that I couldn’t take the blow without breaking me into pieces, The peon took and kept me in the attic. Here, like many other moth-eaten chairs, I am left in eternal darkness to decay. What haunts me most is the idea that this creature will kill some other queen, who will go through the same I went through, to be a chair like I have once been. Or, has it already happened?
