The Jackfruit Situation

So my muscular neighbour begins his ascend of the jackfruit tree with the dexterity of an orangutan. He climbs, swings from one branch to another till he reaches that coveted jackfruit. The li’l kids below have been throwing stones at it since morning but achieved nothing except making a few birds shriek. The boys were glad the messiah of the colony was at the job because frankly, nobody else could have dreamt of climbing up a tree that steep.

Mr T often came to the rescue of those in desparation in the mohalla. Often, in action, he'd wear something as basic as a pair of shorts, as of letting us commoners know how easy of a task it was to him. Today his choice of garment was just a towel. Yes you read it right...a towel.

Say what you will but any Indian boy who has ever had to wear even a dhoti, knows how wearing it while doing nothing at all can still qualify as multi-tasking. But there aren't many challenges beyond Mr.T's abilities.

By this time, the colony had assembled near the tree to witness the impossible. In an urban set up, it may be slightly odd to picture a man wearing a towel strolling the mohalla, but in an almost rural part of a small town, this didn’t raise many eyebrows.

The ladies of the colony always swooned at Mr. T’s effortless bravado. Right before bathing time, Mr. T would walk around his house like this leaving very little to imagination. There would be some sighs, some surrenders or and some tacit acknowledgements. 

It was only last week that we lost our cricket ball inside the compound of an aunt who had professed her profound hatred towards us in not so subtle ways. Mr. T was our sneaky ball ninja who jumped in and out in a matter of seconds and got the balls-deprived-kids of the colony...you know....their balls back.


Anyway, here was Mr T up on the highest branch of the tree, the prized jackfruit now in his hand, while we stood down... helpless... watching half the colony see their savior in awe. It was yet another thing we failed at. It was yet another thing didn't even try. 

Mr. T looked down at his subjects...and probably to set his own benchmark of heroism at an unattainble altitude, he made a snap decision of descending...not branch by branch...but by jumping off this highest tree in all of DTown.



And so he did.

One step of Mr T, one giant leap towards social suicide.




His towel had remained at the topmost branch of the jackfruit tree as an ‘I was here’ signature.

A few feet below, stood Mr. T, stark naked, with a 3 KG jackfruit in his hands keeping the remainder of his tattered dignity intact (well not really). His house was almost 500 meters away posing a difficulty of the logistical sort. He seemed to lack the time or the voice to plead anyone for shelter.

So, Mt T ran …for 500 Meters...holding a jackfruit.

The kids went to his house to retrieve the jackfruit but nobody opened the door.

Have not heard from him since. Heard rumours that he has developed an acute aversion to jackfruits…and towels…and bathing. 

I exaggerate a tad.