A Fruity Tale

The round conical hats on top of their heads shaded them from the hot tropical sun. Rosamma and her two friends in identical hats, blue printed saris and grey safari overcoats looked quaint. Bent over their brooms sweeping the dried leaves off the cobbled roads and the muddy side slopes, they kept at their work all day long. The swish of their brooms and the crackle of dry leafs was a constant background sound at the laid back Kerala resort. The resort itself was a beautiful gem embedded in the sylvan and pristine Wayanad district. A district of mountainous terrain, rain forests and vast tracts of greenery, coconut trees dotted the landscape. And even though expected, heady aromas of coffee, cinnamon, cardamom and other beautifully scented spices and oils wafted whereabouts, catching you in sensory surprise.

Talking about the resort, the wilderness had but one domesticated streak in it. It was heavily populous in tall fruit laden Jackfruit trees. The luscious big fruits hung about in abundance, inviting exclamations and yearnings of the drool worthy kind. The trees invariably initiated many a conversations between parents and startled city children on what this peculiar huge fruit was. And why was it a fruit when you really mostly ate it as a vegetable.

This particular day was hot and sultry. Little children splashed around in the small emerald pool near them. The pool was the favourite family spot in the whole tourist village retreat. Parents lounged around lazily yet kept a watchful eye on the kids, a few fathers and mothers were in the water with the toddlers and the mid morning was filled with laughter and excited squeals from the children. As the wind picked up to a cool brisk breeze, a cawing crow flew overhead and perched on a branch of the nearby tree. The wind was gathering in dark clouds and stray fat raindrops fell here and there. The scorching sun and relentless heat held on because the clouds strayed on as majestically as they swept in. Rosamma looked up wiping sweat off her brow. Her sack was almost full with the brown dead leaves and she needed a break now. At forty nine this was back breaking work for her but she was happy enough that she had a job which could bring some money home.

Rosamma called out to Savithri and Josie to continue, and then gingerly sat down on the thick woody root of a jackfruit tree. The root was half in and half out of the ground, and looked somewhat like gnarled tentacles encircling the base of the trunk. ‘How like my life is this tree’ she thought ‘looks well and strong from the outside, but with its roots showing half out of the earth all it needs is a fierce storm to uproot the whole tree.’ Her thoughts wandered to her son Milton, he had finished his schooling four years back. At twenty one he was a good looking and even tempered young man who did all the odd jobs around their small thatched house. He cleaned it, repaired it when needed, planted and tended to vegetables in their little patch of land. He worked diligently. Rosamma had pushed him very hard through the government school over the years. She had been very hard of money but then Father Bernard of her local church had been kind to the widow and her son. Over the years Father Bernard had arranged for handed down books and clothes for Milton. Even the school tuition fee was arranged whenever she could not come up with the amount.

Rosamma had never needed to work when her husband Joseph had been alive. He had been a factory hand at one of the porcelain factories in the nearby town of Sultan Bathery. The long commute to work and the fairly long hours gave him a meagre salary but they never questioned it, and were very happy and content with the job and the surety of basics it offered. It all lasted till the day Josephs ancient Luna punctured a tyre and skidded off the slick monsoon road into a red slushy roadside ditch. That day to till two years back when she landed the cleaners job at the resort, life had been a struggle for Rosamma and her son Milton. While Rosamma had this job to support them, despite being educated and hardworking, Milton so far had not been able to find work. Times were tough for the young these days. So many of them but not enough work to go by. She worried about how long till the youthful and honest dreams and attempts would give in to despair, frustration and eventually to anger and vice.

Immersed in contemplation of her woes Rosamma’s weather beaten face looked beset with worry for a few minutes. She shook herself out of the reverie to get on with her work. Taking a sip of water from an old bisleri bottle she got up to join Josie who had gone quite a few paces ahead.

“Oh Rosamma aunty what happened to you, you don’t look well?” said Josie looking up from under her straw hat. She was fond of the older woman, who along with Savithri amma had taken the nineteen year old Josie practically under her wings. Rosamma looked after the young village girl as her own daughter. “Young Josie nothing for you to worry about, you get going with the broom” said Rosamma with mock anger. She looked at the girl as the sun caught on Josie’s eyes and they shone a deep brown instead of the usual dark black.

Rosamma too was fond of this straight talking, hard working girl. What she did not know was that Josie in secret really liked her son, Milton. Infact Josie had one day overheard her father talking about approaching ‘that decent boy’ Milton’s mother for his hand for Josie. “Such good boys are hard to find.” Said her father, but she heard her mother grumbling in a low voice about what good were young men who didn’t have a job. “No no, not for my Josie a life of penury.” were the last words her mother had said, ending the conversation. The elation which had enveloped Josie dropped to a low sense of loss. She didn’t quite understand this loss, the painful heaviness which strung her heart and never seemed to go away.

As the work day ended, the clouds which had been playing hide and seek most of the day filled the sky in a dark menacing overhang. They shut out all light making the evening seem almost like night. Rumbles of thunder were close and it didn’t take long for raindrops to start pattering down, quickly turning into a furious torrent. The tree filled retreat suddenly looked like a dense tropical jungle with no connect to the outside world. Rosamma pulled up and tucked in her sari to save it from getting wet. She took her canvas shoes in hand and started walking with an umbrella over her head towards the main gate. Fighting her way forward in the thick grey black downpour she could hardly see ahead when a dark shape suddenly loomed in front of her, trudging with effort, a big sack in hand. Rosamma was too late to stop herself. She collided with the dark apparition and together they tumbled over headlong, hitting the sack and going right over it.

“Oh amma I almost broke my back” moaned Rosamma, “what is in this sack, you fool. It grazed my whole body. And by the way who are you?” she continued, her voice shrill with pain and anger. She struggled to get up trying to feel for her shoes which had fallen out of her hands, suddenly everything lit up as a huge bolt of lightning struck somewhere close. She saw the housekeeping boy Pannu on the ground and next to him was a sack from which had tumbled out many big jackfruits. Jackfruits being smuggled out of the resort! “You thief, you think you’ll get away with this?” Rosamma grabbed him by the collar pulling him up, unsuccessfully Pannu tried to writhe free.

Unseen in the nearby guard post the resort manager Murugan was going over some details with the guard when through the deafening rain he thought he heard screaming. He ran out, a torch in his hand just in time to see two silhouettes struggling and shouting. He was followed closely by Savithri and Josie who were setting out for home. “What is going on here?” boomed manager Murugan clutching at the figure who seemed to be trying to run away. He took in the scene as just then the guard flicked on the floodlight near the main gate.

As he came to know what had happened Murugan turned onto Pannu like a crazed man “You fool, you are the one responsible for my prized produce disappearing from the trees. Run from here before I beat you black and blue and call the police. Stealing jackfruits indeed! As if I don’t have a hard enough time saving them from all our resort guests. They suddenly seem to have visions of jackfruit kebabs hanging in front of their eyes on seeing my precious produce.” As Pannu sprinted off, Murugan turned to thank Rosamma “Amma you are a good and brave soul, you saved me from a cheat.” Turning to go away he thought of something else “Rosamma I will need to replace that thief, why don’t you get your boy Milton to see me in the morning?”

The sudden offer was such a shock to Rosamma, it hit her numb before a great big smile spread on her face. In the darkness it could not be seen but another smile lit up young Josie’s face.