The Real Child

You found a nice place to sit and eat in this big wheat field. What have you bought? I am getting a nice smell.

Really? I bought Mudda Pappu (plain dal curry). What did you get?

I bought Avakaya (Mango Pickle). I didn’t get the time to make-

Woah! Give it to me; it smells nice. Can I taste some? Hmm, it tastes spicy, and sour is perfectly balanced. My mother used to make it spicier; my father used to love it! Let’s share our food, Mudda Pappu and Avakaya; it is the best combination.

Haha, who takes a complete stranger’s food and says let’s exchange?

You don’t want?

I didn’t say that; how can I say no to that smell? My name is Laxmi. What is your name, and where are you from? Have you started working here since yesterday? I came in today after my neighbor said the owner is a kind woman.

My name is Sita; this is my village.

Who goes for daily wage in their own village? That’s odd.

This is my field; is it wrong to work in my own field.

Madam, I’m sorry I was so rude to you-

Don’t stand up; one shouldn’t stand up while eating. I don’t worry about those things but give me some more of the pickle and take this curry; I have so much.

Thank you, Sita-amma garu, మీ పప్పు చాల బాగుంది (Your dal is awesome). Did your daughter-in-law make this?

I made this. Take some more; you are not mixing properly. Don’t mind taking more; it’s tasty with Avakaya.

I heard; Sir has passed away a long time ago. Who are you living with, Amma-garu (Madam)? Do you have kids?

Ever since my youngest son went abroad five years ago to become a doctor and is staying with his brother who runs a company there, I have been living alone. Before that, my daughter, me, and my son used to live together, but she is married and went abroad.

My kids are small; they are studying in a big school. They also want to settle in foreign countries. But Amma, aren’t you feeling alone?

Alone? I have my eldest kid; look how big he has grown.

Where is he Amma? Is he the one who was instructing us in the morning?

That’s my sister’s son; he is working for me, and he looks after the accounts. I am talking about this one right here.

But Amma, this is a tree.

Yes, the tree I planted right after our marriage when we bought this land. It grew be-fore my eyes like my child; when all my children were playing around this tree, I used to feel all my kids were playing along. We lived under here looking after the farm; we lived under here when we were building a house. All my children left me when they grew up; I felt alone at first, but he gave me a feeling that I am here. I never felt alone when I sat here. I feel like I am sitting with my son, my favorite child.

Amma, don’t take this wrong, but people will think you are crazy if you talk to them like that and say things like this.

Ha-ha, what about you?

Well, I can understand your feeling, and I don’t think you're crazy or anything. But I am asking you generally.

You are correct if you look at it like that, but don’t people say they love money, gold, or cars, and they are just objects? Eventually, those things will leave you when your time is bad. But my kid will never leave me as long as I live. Even when I die, people will say I loved this tree when they talk about me or see this tree. This will be my real child.

Written by

Arjun Sahasya

“For everyone, mainly a farmer, there will be a tree in their farm, their house, or their relatives' house, which is like a memory or like a family. For Sita Amma, it is like her elder son, a real one.”

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Click here read my story: Dainty Dairy Narratives

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Arjun Sahasya