Memory - Remember - Elder Tree ( reimagined story) - (4 minute read)

 Once there was a girl who got her feet wet and cold. 

How could this happen when it was a bright sunny day? 

Her mother undressed her and made her lie down on the cosy bed with some warm ginger chai (tea), having added a dash of turmeric, pepper and lemon grass. (Mother's feel better to add everything that will make us feel better!).

Just then there came a knock at the door. It was the old man,(who they called Dadaji), who lived upstairs. He lived all alone, his children having moved to another country and his wife too deciding to take an early departure to the the other world. He was fond of children and often came down to chat with the little one. He loved to talk and chat and tell funny little stories that always kept the little one enthralled!

"Now drink your tea, and then perhaps there will be a story in that for you"! said Mother

"Yes! perhaps a new story will come to me today!" said the kind old story man from upstairs. "But tell me how did your feet get wet?"

"Yes,where and how. NO one can imagine how?" said Mother

"Dadaji, please tell me a fairy tale" said the little one, unwilling to answer.

"Hmm, so tell me, how deep was the gutter in the street on the way to your school?" asked Dadji.

“Just half way up my leg, that is if I stand in the deep part” said the girl innocently.

"Ahhhh, so that is how you got your feet wet! Now I can tell you a story. But what story shall I tell?”

“Make one up Dadaji; everything you look at becomes a story and everything you touch can be in your tale!” said Mother.

“The real stories come knocking on my forehead and say: Here I am, tell me!” Said Dadaji

“Will there be a knock soon?” asked the little one.

Her mother laughed as she brought tea for him and herself. She sat down to listen.

“Tell me a story, Tell me a story” said little one.

“The story has to come by itself… come let us look in the teacup to see if you can find a story”

"The Tea Cup!" exclaimed the little girl, barely able to hide her excitement.

She peeped into the cup of tea and there inside the white porcelain cup, floating on the brown tea was a white magnolia flower. It grew bigger and bigger and the petals seemed to grow right out of the cup, to become branches of a tree! The branches spread out as the tree grew taller and taller. Soon branches were everywhere and they seemed to go back to make the most glorious......Elder Tree. For sitting on the top of that tree, was a strange old woman in a green dress, a dress of leaves and flowers.

“Who is that?” whispered the girl.

“Well, the Greeks and Romans call her the Dryad, but some call her the Elder Tree Mother. She is as old as time and older than anything known, so listen to her, listen carefully.” said Dadaji.

The Elder Tree Mother started speaking; “ Look there my child, a road leads us to a gate, that if you open will take us to 4 steps. Climb those steps and you will find a door. Ring the bell and wait for it to open. Once you are inside, you will see an Old man and an Old woman. Do you see her, the old woman with hand so fair and skin translucent that her veins appear like tiny rivers flowing under her skin? The Old man, so dark is seated on the table ready to eat?

“Yes! I remember...that is my grandmother!" Said Mother

“Your Grandmother?” said the girl?

....Mother then told her the story of her hardworking Grandmother's hardworking Hands....

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When the story was done, Elder Tree Mother sitting on the tree, nodded at the child. She took two flowers from the tree and placed it on the Mother and Girl’s hair.

“This is the part I like the most. When a story of mine resembles a story of yours! Some call me a Dryad, while some call me Elder Tree Mother. But my real name is Memory – I sit on the Tree of Life and I can remember, I can recollect, I can tell stories; stories that connect us.” then the Dryad yawned and closed her eyes.

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The little girl lying on the bed, rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Was she dreaming or had she heard a story. She slowly peeped into the tea cup again and saw the flower, the tree and the Dryad were no longer there. Dadaji had got up and was leaving and Mother was walking to the door to see him off.

“That was so lovely Mother. I traveled so far with Elder Tree Mother. Oh!...she said her real name was Memory” said the girl. “Where is she now, is she in the cup?

"Yes, she is. She will remain there till we make another cup of tea and sit down with an Elder to share stories that we call memories” said Mother

  (This story has been a re imagination of the The Elder Tree Mother by Hans Christian Anderson)