Rakesh lived with his grandfather on the outskirts of Mussoorie to attend school because his village had none.
Rakesh bought a bunch of sweet and sour Kashmiri cherries on his walk home from school.
Grandfather advised Rakesh to plant the last cherry seed so that its luck could be put to use.
Rakesh pressed the cherry seed into the soft earth in a shady corner of the garden.
In spring, Rakesh discovered that the cherry seed had sprouted into a tiny rooted plant.
Rakesh watered the small sapling carefully and surrounded it with pebbles to give it privacy.
The cherry tree grew quickly during the early monsoon rains until it was two feet high.
A goat entered the garden and ate all the leaves off the young cherry tree.
Grandfather comforted the upset boy by explaining that cherry trees are very tough.
A woman cutting grass swished her scythe and accidentally sliced the cherry tree in two.
The resilient cherry tree did not die and sent out several new shoots the following summer.
Rakesh went to his village during the rains to help his parents with ploughing and planting.
A bright green praying-mantis was the very first visitor to rest on the cherry tree.
Rakesh removed a caterpillar eating the leaves and told it to return as a butterfly.
On Rakesh's ninth birthday, the four-year-old tree produced its very first pale pink blossom.
Eventually, the cherry tree grew taller than both Rakesh and his grandfather.
Birds like bulbuls and scarlet minivets visited the tree to feast on the sour cherries.
Grandfather loved reclining on a cane chair under the pleasant shade of the cherry tree.
Grandfather explained that the tree was special because they had planted it with their own hands.
Touching the smooth bark, Rakesh felt immense joy and wondered if creating life felt like being God.