ACROSS THE MILES

THE TAMARIND TREE..

The skies are blue, the air is crisp and everyone is at the farmers market. There are many vendors and goods to pursue. A variety of herbs boasting of medicinal value and promising cures, fruits from many different lands. Nuts, grains, granolas and cheese . Home made honey, organic meats and vegetables. This networking of vendors makes you feel at home. I am reminded of the many trips I took with my mother to Rusell Market in Bangalore , the similarity lies in the aroma of the fresh fruits and vegetables that fill the air and the wheeling and dealing that takes place between vendor and consumer.

When I am at the farmers market I am always looking for something new or different, while I am searching I am directed to a basket full of brown stuff, I take a look and what do I see ? Tamarind Pods, I stop and gaze at the fruit, through the slightly cracked hard brown shell I can see the brown pulpy fruit . I stand there looking and suddenly I am transported back in time , to when I was a little girl, visions of me playing under the tamarind tree come to my mind.

The tamarind tree holds many memories for me, especially during the summer holidays, this great big tree with its green leaves intertwined in the branches was like a large umbrella protecting us from the hot summer sun. Under this tree I met my best friend and we are still friends after all these years. We would hold hands and walk around the tree collecting all the small baby tamarind that fell to the ground. ( that is what we called them). It was fun to see the many distortions the face would take once you put it into your mouth. This is where I got a cut on my head from a stone that my brothers threw at the tamarind which landed on my head . Many hours were spent on the slippery slide which was under this tree, many bruises and falls.

When I was in second grade , outdoor lessons were conducted under this tree and for me it was the next best thing to being at home. There were games of Hop-Scotch and Hide & seek and many fights inbetween. I think my mother considered this tree as a baby sitter because during the summer holidays many hours were spent here, with no worry as to where we would go. Suddenly I could hear my mothers voice in the distance asking us to come home for dinner, I turn my head and realize that I am in the farmers market. I pick a few good pods of tamarind, place it carefully on top of all the other things that I had bought and go home taking with me my memories.