‘Vriksha, can you see any cloud passing by?’ I asked the lone tree, as my ears itched to hear the rumbling of ​the clouds.

Vriksha looked down at me mockingly. ‘Look Dharti, don’t ​repeat the same old question. I am more desperate than you are for water. I am almost dying of thirst.’ Said Vriksha, who stood drained out of energy. The heat had made him bereft of his leaves as he stood gasping for breath.

‘Hah! Dying and you. Your roots have sucked even the last drop of moisture from the core of my heart and you are saying you are dying. It is me who is dying. Humans have made my turf hard by using harmful fertilizers and the paucity of water has made me so dry.’ I said in frustration.

‘Humans! How can you forget they axed down my family. Remember when we had a jungle here. How often it would rain then!’

‘Yes, the good old days. Not your fault buddy.’ I mumbled in my miserable voice.

Summer had been longer than usual. I was sunburned, tanned and parched. I missed the greenery on my floor. The cool mist touching me gently each morning. The smell of the flowers and grass. The tiny insects crawling and buzzing around me. The flowers, that would bloom and drop seeds and let new plants to grow. Birds that flitted under the shade of Vriksha. The goats and sheeps grazing and bleating. They created a beautiful opera, with the music of nature all around. I was blessed with the most beautiful garden on earth.

But now they have all gone. Gone with the heat. Some tried hard to survive, but the harsh sun sucked the energy to the last bit and they collapsed. Predators came looking for them and consumed them. And one by one everyone disappeared.

Every morning when the sun would rise, I would look at its mellow rays and pray hard not to torture us with its harshness. But alas, it wasn’t the fault of the sun either. It was as mellow and as harsh as it was eons ago. Probably it were the clouds who were to be blamed. They just refused to fly over my once blessed lands.

Giving up all hopes I lay helplessly, smouldering. Trying to get solace in the cool night. I lost count of the days. When one day I opened my eyes in the wee hours of morning, hearing what I was desperately waiting for. The rumble of clouds!

A little drop fell on me. 

Soon, little by little, drop by drop, water started falling. I gurgled it in through the thin crevices that had emerged on my surface, quenching my thirst. 

I looked at Vriksha. He was literally dancing with his barren boughs. A new ray of hope emerged in our eyes as a little seed, safely guarded in my bosom, satiated herself with water. 

Full of gratitude I raised petrichor.


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Shristee Singh
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One thought on “Petrichor

  1. Well narrated story. ,The feelings of the earth have a genuine touch. The parched earth, lack of rains, use of chemical fertilizers causing environmental issues, blend well with the story

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