We had a lovely avla (amla) tree in front of our house in the colony we stayed as little kids.
Sweet-sour avlas in their season were a treat. They came in bunches.
The slightly over ripe ones were the tastiest. Small, unlike the ones we find in the market.
If we had water after eating an avla, it tasted sweeter.
This tree grew older as we matured.
Folk passing along our road never failed to pause and stare at tantalizingly hung bunches.
Street urchins brought them down with a few shots off their sling.
Did we call the sling 'gilver'?...I'm not quite sure.
Kids grew up, graduated, got married, found better lands.. their folk now a tad older...
but the tree remained steady, faithful.
The tree saw many generations.
A year back, I visited my old house once again.
Nostalgia flooded me.
But one thing struck me as very, very strange.
The avla tree always situated on the left, now was on the right!
Impossible!
I looked again. Yes. It was true.
The tree got somehow transplanted on to the other side.
Had it been searching for us kids all along?
Taking a few, painful steps each year...and now finally had given up it's quest?
I seriously think so.
