What did the walking trees say to the village when they headed for the city? ‘Bye folks! This place is so depressing. We will have fun in the city and come back a few years later.’
They did come back, but not a few years later. In fact by the time they got back, the trees were old, tired. And they had stories to tell. The village was not prosperous anymore but they were patient and they listened: the thatched houses, the big eared dogs, the jumpy squirrels, the charcoal black buffaloes, the docile goats, the saintly sheep and the pesky pigs.
‘We loved our lives, made lots of friends who hung out with us all the time and made a lot of money. But soon we got old. People get older much faster in the cities, and when that happened to us, the city abandoned us. All our friends, money and calm – it all vanished.’
‘Oh!’ The village and all its inhabitants exclaimed. There was sympathy in their reaction and the trees smiled, relieved.
‘Will you take us back?’ The trees leaves hung heavy from their branches. The moisture on them rolled and sat precariously on the tapered tips, like studded gems.
‘Of course, we will.’ The thatched houses, the big eared dogs, the jumpy squirrels, the charcoal black buffaloes, the docile goats, the saintly sheep and the pesky pigs all screamed together as if without thinking.
The trees jumped in joy and their leaves brought a fine drizzle of jubilation in the village. That year the crop yield broke an old record. And soon the village once again became prosperous.

Kulpreet Yadav is an Indian novelist and a short story writer with an interest in poetry, photography, food and wine tasting. His work has appeared in many literary magazines and periodicals including, Sonora Review, Monkeybicycle, Leaning House Press, Muse India, This literary magazine, Hindustan Times, New Indian Express, About.com, Sommelier India, etc. He is employed with the Government of India and is currently stationed at Port Blair. Kulpreet Yadav's maiden novel, 'The Bet' was published in 2006 by Frog books, Mumbai. He can be contacted at kulpreetyadav@gmail.com
They did come back, but not a few years later. In fact by the time they got back, the trees were old, tired. And they had stories to tell. The village was not prosperous anymore but they were patient and they listened: the thatched houses, the big eared dogs, the jumpy squirrels, the charcoal black buffaloes, the docile goats, the saintly sheep and the pesky pigs.
‘We loved our lives, made lots of friends who hung out with us all the time and made a lot of money. But soon we got old. People get older much faster in the cities, and when that happened to us, the city abandoned us. All our friends, money and calm – it all vanished.’
‘Oh!’ The village and all its inhabitants exclaimed. There was sympathy in their reaction and the trees smiled, relieved.
‘Will you take us back?’ The trees leaves hung heavy from their branches. The moisture on them rolled and sat precariously on the tapered tips, like studded gems.
‘Of course, we will.’ The thatched houses, the big eared dogs, the jumpy squirrels, the charcoal black buffaloes, the docile goats, the saintly sheep and the pesky pigs all screamed together as if without thinking.
The trees jumped in joy and their leaves brought a fine drizzle of jubilation in the village. That year the crop yield broke an old record. And soon the village once again became prosperous.