Leaf

Long back, I painted a leaf. Just one, Art Class, taught by my favorite teacher. The Leaf was magnanimously sprawled across the page. A firm petiole leading up to a multi-colored lamina. Elliptic, whorled, alternate? I was too young to understand the twisted biological definitions. But my Leaf was unique, brown stem turning a little green on meeting the lamina, and leaving the leaf, a forgotten light yellow. I didn't stop at that. Veins, pinnate, rotated in front of my eyes, and criss-crossed themselves in a drunken haze. My Leaf was without a name and without definition. Patchy greenish brown in the center, fading yellow at the edges, orange streaks and purple rays. Yes I was raring to go with red and pink. A Leaf with a history. A Leaf fluttering, taking on the world.

A bunch of years later, I derived an interest in my biology class in the leaf section of the plant morphology, comparable to a relish for blueberry muffins. A whole new order of leaf arrangement on stems. Paired, decussate, angles and angels. A whole new notebook was dedicated to my dry leaf collection. Leaves gathered, mummified and treasured.

Followed by The Last Leaf by O Henry. A Leaf and a painting. A Masterpiece. Friendship, caring, sacrifice. Divine culmination of such and such and so and so. Bam! The Leaf, firmly planted in my heart, I moved on.

And maybe 15 rough years on, I need to let go of that Leaf. And turn over to a new one. It would be a simple Leaf. One that grows on trees and not on imaginations. A Leaf that first is yellow then is green then is brown. A Leaf that fails and falls, is forgotten in scenic pathways, is trampled by marching Labradors and is picked up by yet another little girl for her Leaf collection.