Magical Infosys Tree

I still don’t remember exactly I got here, but it must have been an age now. May be quarter of millennium now , but am sure as in those times we hardly had any watches or calendar, but I remember one old lady sitting under my shed to generously feed a traveler with some beans, and soon I came to know I am in a city named “bele-benda-kalu-ooru” (in Kannada means, the place of boiled beans). Years passed in thin air as I grew up in midst of my friends and family. Then there was a big battle and all happy moods seemed to go. There were canons all around and deaths, of humans, animals and even my friends, the trees. Yet I survived, but what followed was a pleasant experience. All my surroundings were cleared and beautiful gardens came up in vicinity, under Haider Ali. Then there were still some of my friends whom I used to talk to, and then there were new kids who would hear all my stories so patiently. The trend continued in tenure of Tipu, the most heroic as they call him. And soon I found myself in another battle and from Tipu, went to moughals, back to Wodeyars. The change in age saw me least interested in this world, as most of my friends were gone, and soon should be my turn. Then came the British, and this city was Bangalore. A new name in old place. Tired of standing in isolation for centuries at same place and I tried to expand, want to move a few feet. Then came a dry patch, and I could not see a single person. All my friends and fellows were gone, and I was standing alone. Waiting for death. Then maybe some decades ago, while counting my last came this person. My eyes saw him as another traveler, not to know the savior. He returned next day, and after and soon daily. I thought my days are counted and will soon be chopped off, as the only tree in this barren land. My age old fight to nature will die off to this mankind. I have been respected for ages, from peers and foes alike. Buildings started to come up all over the place, and the people used to come in shade of me. Their children played with me, but I was a dieing soldier. I wanted to give them shade but my days like leaves left in me were counted. Then this spectacled person came to me, inspected me and whispered in my ear. “Don’t worry together we will see it through. You promise to live, I promise to take all care for you”.
For first time in my life I felt someone respected me, but deep in my heart I know my days are counted. Still I believed in him, and soon there were some people working on me. Suddenly I started feeling blood running in veins, and my heart beat coming back. I was delighted and what followed was a beautiful garden around me. And so many trees around me, so many new friends. I still tell them all the tales of the ages I have seen. But what makes me most happy are so many people passing by me each day. They also seem to be warriors like me inspired by that same man who once whispered life my ears, and years in my age.
So each time you pass by me, do thank that man and smile at me because I smile back to you each time you smile to me. Thanks for giving my life back.
PS: Don’t forget to take a picture of you with me, don’t u think I am photogenic.