A Mute Spectator

My name is Audrey. I live in a quaint corner of a big, bustling city. It’s a clean and peaceful neighbourhood compared to a few other areas, as I’ve heard from them. Them…the ones who dwell in my protective shelter.

My neighbours rarely cause a hullaballoo except for festivals and special occasions. But then those are the times when I suffer the most. The sound from the loudspeakers and chemicals of the firecrackers suffocate me and pose a threat to my health. A grave threat to me and to those who live within my verdant wings.

Today is one such day. I can sense the spirit of festivity. The hubbub has been stressing me out since morning, but I can’t do anything. I’m a passive participant in their celebrations and a silent spectator. No, I’m not selfish. As much as I’m happy for them, I feel bad for the victims of such celebrations.

The moon has reached mid-sky. The shockwaves have subdued. But the clamour and commotion have an adverse effect on me. I couldn’t produce enough food, and now I’m feeling lethargic. Swish! Suddenly, my olfactory receptors detect a medley of unfamiliar scents. I stretch to spot the source, and then, lo and behold… I stared in awe as a few men kept discarding leftover food and other disposables on the ground beneath me.

What’s wrong with them? Don’t they know the protocols? Crack! Rustle! I shake violently to draw their attention, but alas! They are too naïve to identify my gesture of protest. After a few tries, I give up. The breeze by then, was infused with the aromatic scents from those discarded scraps. The whiff of thyme, rosemary and garlic stirred the odour molecules within me. The tantalizing aromas were enticing me with their waltz. The morsels were insignificant to me, but I was happy to see my arboreal pals savouring them happily.

By noon, almost all the eatables were gone, but the imperishable junks were left to their fate. A day passed, and the frolics ended, but the trash remained. Gradually, they started to decay. The once tantalizing aromas metamorphosed into foul and queasy gasses. A pungent stench permeated the air, but none seemed bothered.

Isn’t it strange that humans who meticulously chase away every speck of dust and dirt from their homes don’t think twice before contaminating the outdoors? Is it proof of their disconnection with nature, or are they sloppy and lazy? I ponder for a while.

Yet, amidst the discomfort and frustration, I realized it was a part of the lifecycle. Though their merriment became a reason for sorrow for some, a few lesser mortals benefitted from it. Some of the crumbs turned into organic matter. They’ll not just nourish my roots, but they’ll provide sustenance to the microorganisms too. But can it counter the high volume of irreversible damage the non-biodegradables will cause to the ecosystem? I doubt.

If only I could voice out my concerns… I can’t. Can you? Will you?

***

Glossary:
Ficus Audrey- Banyan Tree.

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Moumita Dutta

Moumita, is a service sector professional and a Glossophile who dedicates her leisure time in learning foreign languages. She writes to learn, to convey and to hear her own thoughts speak. For her, a blank page is both a mirror and a stage. She says, “Writing is my favourite expression. It’s my way to capture my wandering thoughts that help me write some sweet nothings.I keep the known alive and give life to the unknown, through my writings.”