The defiant peepal beyond borders

AS war clouds loom, the peepal tree above Pillar No. 918 — a silent sentinel at the India-Pakistan border in Jammu — is holding its breath. It listens to tales carried by birds from both countries. A bird from India tells the story of a young woman grieving for her husband — a victim of terror. A winged one from Pakistan echoes the roar of the war machines and the fire they spit. The branches tremble as the birds perch on them, their cries blurring into shared grief.

The ‘numbered’ tree, the only one of its kind among thousands along the 3,323-km border with Pakistan, exemplifies Mother Nature’s efforts to erase human divisions.

Border pillars stand as man-made obstructions to the earth’s seamless expanse. These concrete slabs — two to three feet high, sometimes just a few bricks cemented and painted white — declare the ownership of countries. Somewhere between the 1990s and early 2000s, a peepal sapling dared to grow near Pillar No. 918, a tender protest against the battle lines humans had drawn. On the zero line, a place seldom trodden by civilians and guarded by the ever-watchful eyes of security personnel, the sapling slowly claimed its space. For years, it went unnoticed, even as it grew to envelop the pillar completely.

The peepal, regarded as sacred in India, is spared the axe out of reverence. Across the fence, Pakistani troops prefer the unchecked growth of wild vegetation as it veils their covert activities. Sarkanda grass, a thick wall of green, lines their territory like a smokescreen that helps to hide terrorists and drug consignments before they are pushed into India.

In 2009, I stood in front of the tree, humbled by its quiet defiance. Its branches were stretched across the zero line — turning a symbol of division into a natural emblem of coexistence. Tourists flocking to the Suchetgarh border craned their necks to see this living border marker. They enquired about the tree that seemed to whisper about giving peace a chance. The BSF adorned visitor galleries with its image and the story it carried, spreading the message that even amidst chaos, nature heals and unites. Many writers penned poems on the message the tree tried to convey.

“To whom do I belong?” the tree broods, extending its shade equally over both lands. Its unspoken question mirrors the human conflict that creates borders. It wonders if its fellow silent witnesses — trees, rivers, mountains — can endure humanity’s endless greed and violence.

Sadly, Pillar No. 918, now etched into its trunk, turns the tree into an unwilling participant in human affairs. And yet, in its stillness, the peepal asks the question humanity has long ignored — can nature erase boundaries and wipe out the hatred we nurse against each other?

Musings