The Ghosts in the Peepal Tree

A Poem

Happy Halloween!

As a toddler,
I was always afraid
to be in the backyard
near the peepal tree
in the shadow
of the moon.

Haven’t you heard
the ghost story
from your granny
about the ghosts who party
in the peepal tree?

What’s the color of their skin?
Why do they scare us?
What do they eat?
Why don’t they sleep at night?

Ghosts are introvert
and shy writers,
writing their own stories
on the leaves of the peepal tree.
Everyone fears them
out of ignorance
and they fear from us
for our unawareness.

They’re tenants
living in the tree
and fear our cruelness
as we recklessly cut trees.

But,
I’ve never paid
them a visit at their house
as I value my life
more than my theories.

I don’t know
how they look
and what they eat,
as I’ve never really seen them.

I imagine
that they are hollow
from the inside
just like our emptiness
when we’re lonely.
Tell me the color
of hollowness,
and I’ll tell you
the color of their skin.

I imagine
that they crave
to come out
in the light —
But they can’t.
Famished
of flashes of life,
their eye sockets
just need some light
to see in the darkness —
Outside and within.

Peepal tried to teach
them a few tricks
to cook their food.
But the photosynthesis process
needed light.
Their body is out of juices,
debarred of light —
They’re starving
but with a ray of hope,
that one day they’ll glow.

Happy Halloween 👻

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