Lament of a native tree

A native tree's lament
I'm not sure what it's called in Urdu, but Koan is what people who speak Pothohari and Dhani call it. Its plants are spread out on both sides of the road heading to the Chakwal village of Dhok Qada. I was relieved to see it in such profusion at this location today because, like many other plants, it is slowly vanishing from the landscape. His descent to it and prolonged touching of the leaves and stem caused him to enter a state of devotion.

I took in the scent of it and the sound of the wind rustling through its leaves for a considerable amount of time. It is a pure and unharmful plant. There is no fruit, no flowers, no colour, no scent, and no thorns. Both wood and the materials used to make medicine cannot be used. The head is tall when you're young, but as you get older, it starts to look ugly and crooked. Its single good quality is that it has always existed in our environment, and I love it for that reason. Only when the gad starts to develop slowly, like a daughter raised in poverty, can something give us something without taking anything away from us in return. For

There are numerous plants of it in the same region, in Chauhan Sayedan. It is not in great abundance, however it is present in a lot of the Lindi Patti region of Chakwal. Its habitat is primarily found in the regions between Jund Awan and Dohman. This plant prefers the regions of the Potohar region with the smooth, white soil. Although I have witnessed it here, it will also occur in many other places.

.This plant, which is a member of the cheel family, is evergreen and hardly ever sheds its leaves, which are arguably better referred to as bushes. It has very tiny flowers and salty leaves. Although less so, these leaves are similarly yellow. It grows extremely slowly, the wood is unusable as fuel, there are no fruits, the shade only covers one side of the tree, and the shade is not deep, all of which indicate that the tree bears no fruit. Its one redeeming quality—that it has been our friend for centuries—far surpasses all of its flaws. It provided shade on at least one side of the field and safeguarded their delicate crops from strong winds when our elders planted it on the mandirs of the fields.

The firm wood of this tree, which is extremely durable, was utilised by those elders to create ploughs, axe handles, rakes, and sickle handles. When we were kids, our school used it in another way, and it looked like this. Our lecturers used "sooty," which is formed from the tree's flexible, green branch, extensively on our hands and during visits. These trees were arranged in a row along our school's frail exterior wall.

This tree probably prefers to stand in a neat row rather than form a clump. We can appear quite sophisticated if we can take something away from this. It can be thickened with several hundred plants in a single day because it is planted at a relatively shallow depth of the earth. There might

Because it is a hardy plant, it doesn't require much care, which may be why we don't even notice it. The majority of us don't garden regularly anyway. We have therefore advanced, yet the farmers and shepherds of the past possessed a level of intelligence well beyond our own. Crows were also planted in rows, along with bundles of cakar, falahi, and berries. Banyan and papaya were planted, and we simply sold them all. Many of our native trees are on the verge of extinction because we don't care to plant. huge and aged banyan trees,

Future generations may not see phalahi, berry, kekar, and kawan trees as we have. The result of centuries of continuity were these trees.