A once-free, ever-giving peepal tree stands here, its thick branches forced to push through narrow gaps in a sheet of metal roofing that humans have laid around it. The corrugated blue sheets press against its trunk, cutting into the natural space it needs to breathe, expand, and grow. The tree bends and twists unnaturally, as if struggling to escape a cage. Dry leaves scattered across the roof look like silent witnesses to its suffering.
This peepal tree, which should have been respected and protected—especially standing outside a temple—is instead trapped by human convenience. The very structure meant to provide shade and blessings now squeezes the life of a tree that has been offering shade, oxygen, and spiritual significance for generations.
People pass by the temple, fold their hands, offer prayers, but few look up to see this living being fighting for space. Perhaps they’re in a hurry, perhaps they assume “the tree will manage,” or perhaps they simply don’t realise that human constructions, even unintentionally, have compromised its freedom to grow.
But this tree is no ordinary tree.
The peepal is sacred. It releases oxygen even at night, shelters countless birds, purifies the air, cools the surroundings, and is considered a symbol of life, wisdom, and divinity. It is nature’s temple standing beside the man-made temple, yet it receives neither care nor gratitude.
This picture silently asks a question:
If we cannot protect the very tree that stands beside a place of worship, what does worship truly mean?
The peepal tree’s survival is not just its own struggle—it reflects how human neglect can choke the very nature that sustains us