Remember that old jackfruit tree
with those elusive green giants?
perched so high and mighty,
sought by little hands of curiosity,
by children fighting for their own
share of the ‘fruit’
Remember our great surprise
when we found out,
it was one among the veggies
‘a common man’s meat,
as the elders called it.
Its sap trickled like a milky wave,
the excitement of holding it as a price
uniting the neighbourhood.
Like some treasure hunt promoting
Too scared then to climb up the tree
to claim it,
lucky for the cityscape to still not
I watch it,
as if in a freeze frame.
I look at the home we left,
how all fruits of our labours to
fell like autumn leaves,
trodden by careless feet
on the pavement.
Where once not so long ago,
the jackfruit sap fell like
cool water of baptism,
suddenly with the summer,
a symbol of the roots that held us
to these walls.
That is the legend.
As long as the jackfruits hang above
a return to a world of memories
is never too far.
The King of Fruits,
always in rebirth for me.