The swaying coconut tree

Wind picks up pace by late evening, the forecast were dire, by night the gust whistled through the windows. The waning gibbous moon lit the dark clouds in grey that provide the background for the lamenting coconut tree. It swung its fronds here and there like someone in great distress. A moment the leathery leafs arranges on one side of the crown against the relentless wind the next moment it is splattered haywire as the wind decide to angle the other way or that the tree has swung to its extreme and ricochets in its momentum. The tree reacts to every move of the gust. It is precise in its calibrations so as to not allow itself snap. It is in a tango with the storm. It thrives acutely attuning to the surrounding and sets to work with awareness of natural forces and limitation it places. He though wasn’t conscious of the tribulation of the tree nor cared for the forces that work. The coconut yield is low, there is no value for the wood either unlike acacia or teak, isn’t it better to hack it off. The thrashing tree was like an angry demon bringing bad omen. Against the grey sky it sways like foreboding calamity. The sky was getting angrier these days. When it rained it poured without any intermittence for hours. The rivers were constantly breaching and claiming the bank while the oceans batter the coast with plastics and dead fishes. He knew gods where angry. People don’t follow rituals precisely these days. They have lost purity to deal. Only pure souls can understand the will of the god and lament for the sin. There are procedures prescribed to satiate the god and bring peace to the world. He knew what to do. He will have to build a shrine to atone the sins of humanity. Only he could appease the god. Only he knew how to appease the god. Enough of donating to religions and old sites that have lost their aura. The world needs fresh energy and optimism. People must congregate to pray that will spread positive energy. More people in the congregation more potent their pray. The world needs doers not thinkers, men of action who can exploit resources, create jobs, better the economy and win elections and contracts. Greater the economy more the money generated and therefore more power. A great nation needs to be powerful. A powerful nation needs blessing. He couldn’t wait for the sun to rise. It was a damp morning with trees drenched in overnight rain. Babblers rake wet sticky leaves on the ground to pluck stranded caterpillars. He set out to hack the coconut tree. The tree was useless the site was auspicious, and he knew the use of land. Land was a like a mother that provides for her children. Mother earth needs shrine. He will make a big shrine. The shrine should be grand. It must awe the people into submission to god’s will. It must make them believe in miracles. The world needs believers of miracle. He was the miracle creator. He was chosen, and knew deep inside him of his true calling as the servant of the god and virtuous guide to people. Not many are such fortunate. He set about to make grand plans for the shrine. The wide palm canopy and its arrangement of fronds is home to treepie and her hungry chicks, they sigh in relief having survived the storm. The tree was strong but resilient. The tree will protect them.