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.…
