Spice of life: Tryst with juicy jamun to sharing fruits of labour

Tall trees in front of our house not only line the road with shade and greenery but some of them are laden with fruits of the season too. These days, the neighbour’s tall mango tree adds to the distraction for me as well.

From the flowering stage to the tiny raw mangoes and then the ripened ones are anybody’s invitation to help themselves. I like to guard it from the urchins and workers passing by and end up doing a favour to the elderly neighbour who loves the tree and won’t let anybody pluck mangoes without his permission.

All year round, I observe the different moods of the trees shedding leaves sometimes and acquiring new ones at another time. With a hot cuppa in hand, I just seem to be in deep appreciation of His work in nature.

The feathered friends find it a perfect place to nestle in the trees. Their chirping, hooting and cawing make my mornings delightful.

Amid the trees in the neighbourhood stands an old jamun tree, which is an attraction for all ages only during the fruit-bearing season when everyone eyes it.

The tree can be a bane during the fruiting season. Thud falls the jamun, splashing purple colour on the ground and soon the road turns purple like an artist’s canvas. Many a times, it colours the cars parked below.

Children will be children and on a quiet Sunday afternoon while I was in a mood to catch up with my siesta, three musketeers appeared, chatting loudly and giggling while hanging on the branches while collecting the juicy jamuns to either sell or for self-consumption.

Strange enough they caught my fancy and I approached them. I soon became a party to their mischief. Politely, I asked them if they would share a few. The crooked smiles told me they wouldn’t.

Instead, the trio offered to sell it for a price. I thought it was unfair so I decided on teaching them a lesson. I took away their flip-flops lying nearby while they were perched on the tree.

Now that was unexpected. They acted smart and nonchalant, saying they didn’t care so I walked off with their footwear. I knew I was being a naughty aunty but I was seriously enjoying the afternoon fun.

Things didn’t end there. One of them stammered a bit. No offence meant but he spoke the most and that tickled me no end. Finally, they decided to apologise and part with a fair share, free of cost. I relented and they promptly collected their prized possession and I took no time to teach them to say thank you.

There never should be a dull moment in life. Not in mine. If plucking jamuns made them happy, getting a bagful made me happier. elsa.sekhon@yahoo.com

The writer is a Panchkula-based homemaker