It rained today, reminding me how close we are to the mango season. Gosh, the way I miss yellowish ripe mangoes.

The thought of them makes feel the sharp pang nostalgia that just hit me. Childhood memories start coming back to me. They take me back to my mother’s backyard. I am probably 6 or 7 in this particular memory. We had this gigantic mango tree on the side of the house. It hung over the car port. At some point it became my sanctuary. I would dream up a tree house and imagine myself flying with the planes. It was also my favourite hide and seek place, I could get lost in my head for hours while hidden. At times family would look for me and wouldn’t find me.

The older I get the more I realize. I have grown with “that gigantic mango tree”. I have found it many things till I found ink and paper and settled there. It is the cloak that makes me invisible yet loud. It makes a weak me seem confident. Guess was gifted with words for a reason. I hope someone gets consolation in them as well.


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