I visit a mango orchard in Uttar Pradesh--my birth state. Almost all, but a few trees had been harvested. They stood still, exhausted but happy after a bumper crop. The few which still bore the almost ripe chausa mango appear like a woman in full term. The fragrance of the leaves, the scent of the ripeness still on trees reach me with the light breeze caressing my being, all of it intoxicating. I am transported to my childhood home in Kanpur. We lived in a huge 3-storey house built by my grandfather. He had a green thumb and an immense love for fruiting trees. One because he loved fruits and two because he loved to light a fire each night during winter months, in our cozy fireplace and needed firewood. Our house had a mini orchard. There were 5 mango trees, 4 lemon trees of different varieties, 1 pomegranate, 1 sweet lime, a chandan tree and a neem tree. A bougainvillea shrub, 2 gulmohar trees, 2 ashoka trees, chameli, kamini , lilies, roses, and bela . . .. Once in a whil
message sent blue ticks stare at me silence speaks (c) shubhra October 17th, 2021 ++++++ conversations in your head or mine unwired emotions (c) shubhra October 6, 2021 ++++++ pouring rain river like roads my WFH oasis (c) shubhra September 11, 2021 ++++++ thundering clouds rumbling inside unzen-like meditation (c) shubhra September 11, 2021 ++++++ Loaded mango tree— reminisce of my lost home baggage of the past (c) shubhra September 12, 2021