Near my old school, there is a banyan tree
I've always wondered where these roots develop
and where the strength comes from.
It's the only tree I'm aware of that has roots
both below and above ground.
My classmates and I used to swing for hours
during long recess and after school hours
while waiting for the rickshaw to arrive.
So many birds have built their nests,
and there are billions of ants all around.
Occasionally, a troop of monkeys hops
to hide and play on the swing like we do.
I heard a story about ghosts living on it
and coming out at night to celebrate.
One day after school, we went to the tree to play hide and seek, not noticing that the rickshaw had vanished
while we were still playing.
As the darkness engulfed us,
we realised we were lost and that Ghost might appear.
When I visited that banyan tree after fifty years,
all of my previous days rushed back to me like a documentary.
Even that day, when the darkness began to engulf me,
I grew restless and hurried away
as if a ghost was following me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem