A Rainy Day - Part II

I hassled the auto driver into the apartment.
I saw my mother and brother at the entrance, looking around worriedly. I waved and smiled at them, touched by how concerned they were, for my safety. I shielded my head against the rain (what a silly thing to do) as I got out of the auto, rummaging in my bag for my wallet. It was then that my mother pointed out to something behind me. I expected to see a pile of hailstones collected in radiant glory as I turned around.
The Peepal tree had weakly collapsed in a magnificent heap of green on the road, blanketing our white car in a confused tangle of green and brown. I let my breath out in a low gasp.
The tree had been severed cleanly, almost as if in a sharp stroke of fury, near its roots. I noticed a deep gash on it's trunk for the first time. The tree had crashed helplessly on the road, and on our car, bringing down two little decorative palms with it. The car and the fallen palms were wrapped in their entirety.
Ripe fruits still clung to the slim branches, lost symbols of a lost life. I wondered where the bulbuls would perch now. Where the crowd of mynahs would gather to busily chatter. Where the cuckoo would coo coyly from. Where the little birds would flit restlessly now.
I stared out of my window. There was no tree, swaying its lush green reluctantly in a slow rustle, like the sound of a flying flock of birds. There was only the grey sky, staring dully back at me.
I looked down to see the tree that now lay tragic in its majesty. Green leaves, fresh from the rain, spilled around her weakened limbs, giving her pale skin a fading sign of life
Slowly the people gathered around the fallen tree, venturing around to the front to get a better view of the crushed car. They sympathized with my mother, gasped at the right places. Little kids pranced around the green, merrily, proudly, retelling stories of the fall that had jolted them out of their skin.
 Help came and cut the branches one by one. Little by little, tiny specks of white emerged from the varying shades of green. The car stumbled into view, with a cracked windshield, a dent on its head. A ragged, ravaged, rusty, radiant 800.
The car was parked away, with plans of repair work being made. It could easily be driven again, some agreed.
Others stared out of their window, their eyes only finding a memory of dancing green. The wood of the tree was hacked away. Her voice had fallen silent.