There’s a jamun tree outside my office. I did not know about it until today, when suddenly a couple of climbers jumped over it and rained jamuns over my head. Obviously, I was angry initially, for the momentum of falling jamuns from a great height had a huge impact on my head but then I slowly turned disheartened, as I saw over a 100 jamuns squashed over road, rolling over, sticking with dirt. And then to sight, there were some people who even picked them up and ate, no washing-no grinding. Yummy, they said. I was left wondering. How something grew only to fall, under the feet, on the road, inside the mouth? How something juicy be at the mercy of some unfamiliar lot? How relevance conjugated irrelevance in the most unfashionable way and life became just a heresay? And then my spell was broken. I came back to senses as he talked, a tall built sando man, one of the climbers, who came up to me and gave me a polythene of dirt vetted jamuns and said, ‘Badiya hai, kha lijiye!”
As a gesture, I took it. I brought it to office. Washed some, shared with colleagues and enjoyed it.
Scintilla of Scobiform 