This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda
 I was a reject. They left me unscathed, with no scars, no scratches. They spared me because I was of no use to them. I wished I was. I wished someone, even Death, would care to embrace me.

I knew it the moment I first felt the golden rays of the sun. I knew from the day I was born that this life will never be easy. I was a foreigner, a stranger here.  I was subjected to ridicule without any mercy.  They treated me like a stray, my only crime, my curse.

In this dense forest of sandalwood I was that lone tree of different birth........

The shrieks of my brothers as they were being sawed from their roots echoed through the hills. The sound of branches being snapped, the crunch of twigs under the monster’s feet, the wailing wind….it seemed an eternity before the forest was calm again. As I watched these monsters haul away every single lifeless trunk, I shed no tear. Years of mockery had rendered me emotionless. I cared no more.

At the dead of the night when a calm breeze stirred my leaves, I suddenly woke up. The silver moonlight lit up the place all around me. Dead trees, broken twigs and mauled branches strewed the ground. A snake swished towards the undergrowth, the only greenery left besides me. The desolate and now barren forest looked haunted.

I stood there all alone. But it wasn't painful. I was solitary and isolated once. So am I now. I am not relieved that they are no more to taunt me. I pity myself because even death taunts me. 


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