25/05/2026
“Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky.”
— Khalil Gibran
There are some trees that become a part of your inner landscape. Do you notice the trees around you ?
For me, the trees of Cubbon Park have always felt that way.
Not merely as trees lining pathways, but as silent witnesses to time itself.
They have stood there long before our hurried mornings, our traffic-choked evenings, our changing skylines, and restless ambitions. Beneath their shade, generations have walked, paused, grieved, fallen in love, healed, protested, reflected, and simply existed.
And yet, the trees remain.
There is something profoundly humbling about that kind of stillness.
Every time I walk through Cubbon Park, I find myself looking at the roots almost as much as the branches. One reaching deep into the earth, the other stretching endlessly towards light.
Perhaps that is what life quietly asks of us too.
To stay grounded, even while growing.
To bend with storms without losing ourselves.
To offer shade, even after difficult seasons.
The city outside moves with urgency. But inside the park, time seems to loosen its grip. The rustling leaves soften the noise of the world, and for a brief while, you remember that life is not only about movement.
It is also about presence.
A tree never hurries to become itself.
It simply grows, patiently and quietly.
And maybe that is why old trees affect us so deeply.
They remind us of a pace we have forgotten.
A stillness we keep postponing.
A way of being that asks for nothing except that we pause long enough to notice it.
Sometimes, I think the trees of Cubbon Park are not just part of the city.
They are its memory.
MindfulLiving SlowLiving NatureReflections LifeAndNature Bangalore
