Under the Shade of the Fig Tree

Second Wednesdays of the month are days of remembrance if spent outside, it is a day

When we have a local shut down of electricity for the departments overhauling work.

A few kilometres from our village lies a spring at the foot hills of a local mountain .

We all have childhood memories of our folks taking us there in a bullock cart and sharing a meal of togetherness made with firewood and foresty herbs for rasam and other dishes.

So one Wednesday we had been there on a two wheeler.

The road was through small rice and banana plantations and winding up to the base of the hillock , suddenly we were at a cross between a forest edge and a village end.

There was this foresty silence, rich voices of monkeys and the twittering of a bird here and there and other sounds of creatures we would not know,we drove on until we reached the Spring, it has been dug up and a well created and an over head tank added and taps for bathers .

We cleaned up a space below a fig tree and was getting to like the stillness,We walked around the place carefull not to disturb the silence when we started to hear sounds of plop- Plop it was the sound of figs falling.

The monkeys were having lunch I guess and tasting the figs and letting the remains fall.

we had packed our lunch we found a quiet place on the rocks under the foresty shade .

our simple lunch of rice and tomatoes and pickle and curd was more tasty, than it normally would have been.

we were carefull not to leave any of the papery wastes of our leftovers.

We chit chatted with our minds lest we disturb the silence , and quietly wound our way back to our home carrying the richess of the fig tree and the picnic.