The Garden

By Sana Rizwan

PRE-WAR
It was mostly the white that attracted attention: It stood out amongst the blend of colors
that would make the finest of rainbows seem like a speck in the sky. The flowers were
delicate, fragile, yet so firm in their beauty that seemed to radiate from every petal and
every pollen grain. Several shades of silver and pink could be seen in the folds of the
white flowers and the dew drops resting upon their grace. Contrasting beautifully with
those were the violets and lusty red roses that emanated poise and passion, surrounding
the white and green like a boundary wall. On the outskirts of those were little meline
and melichrous flowers coupled with cyaneous ones smelling of earth and heaven
combined. Strong and bold, stood a great oak tree that gave shelter and shade to the
life that lay before it. Its thick auburn branches carried rich green leaves that filled the
entire tree and an amount of air above it with juicy freshness and fragrance. Lime green
and bottle green, every shade of that color seemed to breathe on its majestic body. The
branches gave home to pink and pearly peach flowers which seemed to shine on the
emerald already sparkling as the sun’s rays caught the crystal water droplets on the
waxy surface of the leaves. With the wind coming in with soft waves, it looked like the
flowers were dancing on the spiky grass of the meadow they stood upon. The meadow
contained pools of ochre yellow lilies and blue touch-me-nots sprinkled here and there.
Trees covered the sides of the meadow which obstructed sound and everything else that
could tarnish the purity of the small garden that was the center of the meadow, but none
of the other tress compared to the bold oak that stood with pride, acting as a guardian
looking upon its children. The grand tree seemed impenetrable, impregnable, so mighty
it stood. The earthly scent was masked by the perfume of the hundreds of flowers that
swayed with the breeze, but it was still present. Orange blossoms and purple lavenders,
dainty freesias and erect heathers, plain spengeri ferns to erotic fuchsias- they all co-
existed and completed a wholesome picture. This meadow stretched as far as the bird’s
eye could see and from up there it looked like an artist’s palette which had exploded with
color that could paint a masterpiece.

POST WAR
It was the black that stood out because it contrasted sharply with the multitudinous grey
ash which was the only trail left from the destruction of innocence and the infiltration of
peace. Burnt and decaying, rotted the grass and fern that had once been filled with life.
Small sprinkles of torn petals lay on top of the gray ash, broken beauty on its grave.
The only flowers that hadn’t been annihilated completely stood withering and wilting,
emphasizing the scene of decay. The atmosphere which previously would have entered
our nostrils with welcome and filled it with a heavenly fragrance now choked and brought
tears with the grey smoke that suffocated everything it touched. The trees surrounding
the meadow were now bare with absolutely no leaves on the charcoaled branches.
Some of them were in flames and most of them were chopped. The ground around
them had deep trenches dug in them and empty bullet shells strewn inside and out.
None of the trees could shelter anything now as they had failed to save themselves. The
great oak tree had fallen. The pink and peach flowers on it were non existent and the

flamboyant leaves had been destroyed into tiny grey nothings covered with ash. The
wide stem was now a broken stump. The branches that had first slithered northwards
were now all facing south west. It was a tragic death because an organism that had
lived for more than a hundred years had been lost in an on going battle of a different
world. The bright colors of all the flowers were lost and the only red that could be seen
was blood red and the only pink, the color of burning flesh. A haven, a circle of safety, a
piece of heaven-gone in the warfare of man against man that caused the destruction of
nature and everything beautiful.