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629 Rajiv Sharma They are indispensable. They are everywhere. We pass by them merrily, inhaling the gentle aroma emitted by their florets and fruits. We run for their shelter to escape the ruthless sun of the summers or the sudden downpour of the monsoon. They never let us down. Unmindful of our heed, magnanimous trees keep on growing and spreading their shoots of compassion, silently and constantly. This lockdown, with curtailed clinical hours, my wife and I had plenty of time at our disposal to go for long walks. Every time we ventured out together for immunity-boosting walks, she would keep exclaiming on the way, “Do you know which tree it is; just look at its stunning canopy; I haven’t seen such a fruit of any tree; look at the pattern of the leaves of this tree.” Lost in my own cacophonous mind, my occasional nod or a syllable of approval weren’t enough to satiate her childlike curiosity and excitement. Therefore, she lost no time in ordering two voluminous books on

West bengalKanak champaRajiv sharmaShiv batalviமேற்கு பெங்கல்கனக் சம்பாராஜீவ் ஷர்மாஷிவ் புதல்வி