The Monkey and the Guava Tree
Reflections by Gulnaz Brennan
Just outside my home in India, in the small neighbourhood park, stands a guava tree.
It isn’t marked, fenced, or named. But no one else had claimed it. So I did.
It’s mine now—not in title, but in feeling. It stands tall, generous, fruit-laden. I’ve always been drawn to trees like this, carrying the weight of ripeness so uncomplainingly, as if giving is just part of their being.
I don’t know why it still fills me with wonder—that fruit grows quietly on branches, needing no permission, no applause. That vegetables and fruit are just… there. Free. Given. It’s humbling and miraculous all at once.
My fascination with trees goes with me everywhere. Wherever I travel—whether in India or back home in the UK—I find myself standing beneath them, placing ...