Ghosts love tamarind. That is why they live on tamarind trees. This is the first thing to know about ghosts. People have known this all along. That is why tamarind trees are found outside villages - and no one leaves their village after dark.
I have a home outside a village and there is a huge tamarind tree in my garden. So, I know of this - first hand. One hot and late afternoon, I was sitting under this tamarind tree - just time passing. Occasionally I would pick up a fallen tamarind pod and suck on its intense, dark flesh, face scrunching up at its tartness. Suddenly I heard and saw tamarind seeds raining down - not pods, only just seeds. I looked up, only to get pock marked by these shiny black seeds, showering from above - and nothing else - I swear! No monkeys, no rascal village kids. Only seeds dropping from above. Had never been a great believer in ghosts, but what to do? This was real proof. I figure seeing me suck on those tamarind pods had made the ghosts hungry.
And so we lived, the ghosts and I, as neighbors. They did not bother me and I let them alone - while continuing to visit the tamarind tree. I often heard the tamarind tree rustle in no-breeze, heard the long howls of a family quarrel. Mostly they were quiet and I was comfortable.
Problems started when some visitor from the city discovered my tamarind tree and said I was sitting on a pot of gold. Apparently, the price of tamarind had sky rocketed to more than Rs100/kg. This was real news. My big tamarind tree would fetch me a solid five to ten thousand rupees - for sure. Wonder what Rani would say? Did I not mention that Rani- the young and luscious - would often come to share the shade of my tamarind tree? I was considered a lazy bone (not that Rani ever complained) and Rani a good match. What would her parents say if I wore my white veshti and visited them with a box of sweets, and a saree for Rani? So, without a second thought, I let my slick city friend find me a tamarind contractor and counted my money. After much haggling we settled for rupees six thousand three hundred, although he walked off with more than a hundred kilos of tamarind. Not once did I think of my ghost neighbors, how they would feel, what they would eat - not until much later.
My money and generosity worked its charm on Rani's amma and appa. Rani and I wed, and she accompanied me back home. That night, Rani shed her wedding clothes and joined me under the cover. She was beautiful and I was young. I turned and took her in my arms and kissed her lips deeply - an intense sour taste of tamarind filled my mouth. I pulled back, looked at her in horror and with a scream jumped out of the bed and ran out in darkness - till I reached the tamarind tree. There I collapsed.
I have a home outside a village and there is a huge tamarind tree in my garden. So, I know of this - first hand. One hot and late afternoon, I was sitting under this tamarind tree - just time passing. Occasionally I would pick up a fallen tamarind pod and suck on its intense, dark flesh, face scrunching up at its tartness. Suddenly I heard and saw tamarind seeds raining down - not pods, only just seeds. I looked up, only to get pock marked by these shiny black seeds, showering from above - and nothing else - I swear! No monkeys, no rascal village kids. Only seeds dropping from above. Had never been a great believer in ghosts, but what to do? This was real proof. I figure seeing me suck on those tamarind pods had made the ghosts hungry.
And so we lived, the ghosts and I, as neighbors. They did not bother me and I let them alone - while continuing to visit the tamarind tree. I often heard the tamarind tree rustle in no-breeze, heard the long howls of a family quarrel. Mostly they were quiet and I was comfortable.
Problems started when some visitor from the city discovered my tamarind tree and said I was sitting on a pot of gold. Apparently, the price of tamarind had sky rocketed to more than Rs100/kg. This was real news. My big tamarind tree would fetch me a solid five to ten thousand rupees - for sure. Wonder what Rani would say? Did I not mention that Rani- the young and luscious - would often come to share the shade of my tamarind tree? I was considered a lazy bone (not that Rani ever complained) and Rani a good match. What would her parents say if I wore my white veshti and visited them with a box of sweets, and a saree for Rani? So, without a second thought, I let my slick city friend find me a tamarind contractor and counted my money. After much haggling we settled for rupees six thousand three hundred, although he walked off with more than a hundred kilos of tamarind. Not once did I think of my ghost neighbors, how they would feel, what they would eat - not until much later.
My money and generosity worked its charm on Rani's amma and appa. Rani and I wed, and she accompanied me back home. That night, Rani shed her wedding clothes and joined me under the cover. She was beautiful and I was young. I turned and took her in my arms and kissed her lips deeply - an intense sour taste of tamarind filled my mouth. I pulled back, looked at her in horror and with a scream jumped out of the bed and ran out in darkness - till I reached the tamarind tree. There I collapsed.
