The Witch of the Banyan Tree

The Witch of the Banyan Tree

By Rajul Tiwari

Lady in red under the banyan tree,

I used to meet her daily when I was three...

She would feed me with her hand,

and would tie my lose hair band...

The village thought of me as a prey,

to the witch who was ugly and grey...

But to be true, there was no such beauty and grace,

which I felt in her caring embrace...

I recall how she cried under smiles,

but was tied to those few miles...

I missed her endearing words while sleeping,

and every night looked out to find her peeping...

Villagers thought she ate flesh and drank blood,

but my eyes could only see her as a wilted bud...

Whenever I asked father, who was she,

He would end up explaining by beating me...

I still managed to steal some time with her,

why in the world, I felt love from her...

As if she breathed to give me breaths,

to untie my knotted threads...

Now, I know when I see this picture,

my wound has just lost its suture...

My mother was treated as outlander,

left to the banyan tree spread, to wander...

She was burnt down with the tree when I was six,

her charred body was suspected as one of her tricks...

Standing for a girl, she slayed her life,

why was I born to her, why was I alive...

I never played with another girl,

as they all went down into the channel's swirl...

Had it not been her letter to the state,

I would have been torn out of fate...

She gets torched every time a girl is dead,

she is still burning in me, all done and said...

She managed to save one, still helpless she stands,

can you hear the cries, can you hear the wails of infinite infants??