dee.

𝖉𝖊𝖊 she/her | 🪐 writer.

[dearrdees]

In between these stories - where I accept life as it is, embrace its oscillating nature, the unpredictability it carries, and the endless beauty and peace it offers.

I now dream of becoming someone who can tell wonderful stories -stories of life and experience that reflect the beauty in the ordinary, the lessons hidden in the setbacks, and the unexpected contentment that comes from simply being, romanticizing even the little things in life.

Do we try new things, meet new people, ask new questions, experience new chapters while creating meaningful connections and everlasting memories? Ones which can be beautifully wielded into tales - singing praises of the love experienced, the joy shared, and the bonds created, all coming together to tell a story worth reminiscing.

[dearrdees]

I see everything. 

For I have been rooted to this earth for centuries. I don’t remember my age  — but I remember everything. 

From the slight frown on the farmers’ brow to the pursed lips of the head panchayat. 

My birth, as I bestowed deep inside my mother's womb, the land — I wondered what I would see. As I hear, one of my kind served Lord Buddha, I desired for such greatness, such glory.

I feel. 

Still a child, I am growth, I am a wonder of nature, I feel it. The reach of my roots, the curves of my newly sprouted branches, the tallness I now possess, I feel it all. 

I too can walk, as amusing it sounds, I can. My roots do the wonder, the shift, the move, the growth, I don't feel any less human. 

Boring. And yet years remain, my youth, the splendor I carry, meant to be grand, do grand. Sacred I am, for my name is the sacred fig.

For years, I continue to grow — young and beautiful, wild and free, for I have years more to live. 

I change. 

For I have years more to live, yet I am now old, I look back and laugh at myself, somewhere I regret the pride, for now I know what I am brought to this earth for, for what I am rooted for years to come. To serve. I am no longer the wilderness I was, it humors me quite. My roots and branches still hold their wonder, but I have changed. 

As they say, with age comes wisdom, I am now wisdom. And I serve, I see. 

I see as I serve, I am now of use, refuging the farmer, his frown evidently due to the failed crops, his tired face softens as my enormous branches bring relief to his overworked body. Refuging the village council, the head as he purses his lips, deciding the welfare of the village. The giggly gossips of the women, as they comb their luscious hairs under my shade. 

It's not boring, for I have years more to live, these little details I see and I live. I find myself living the lives of the people I serve. I didn't feel any less human earlier, and I don't now. I feel human, human enough to giggle along with the women, enough to tense in the midst of an important council meeting. 

My end's not near, my life cycle goes on, I am yet to live more, experience more and see more. I desire to tell stories — stories of the lives I have lived. I have attained the glory I initially desired for, not in the way I had intended it to be, but through the reliability and trust of my people. 

I am peepal, I am my people.