Cashew fruit in our garden !

 

My parents had a garden of cashew trees, which normally had ready to harvest fruits, during the summer school holidays. During the month of April, one daily activity I enjoyed doing, was to pluck these fruits and gather the nuts to dry. The fruit pulp was a good meal for the cows. They relished the daily feast.

An interesting aspect of this time was that, I could climb the cashew trees to pluck the fruits unnoticed by my parents. My parents would send me to collect the fruits with the instruction not to climb the tree, but to pluck them with a pole, which had a hook at its one  end. 

Every day I had to return with an anxious thought, what if someone told my parents that I climbed the trees! The domestic workers who saw me climb trees, were on my side, as they saw how much pleasure I derived from climbing trees. They were protective and supportive. Later, I found out, that my parents knew that I climbed trees to pluck the cashew fruits, but did not raise it as an issue of disobedience, probably because I was doing a favour to them by gathering the fruits. 

I go to the cashew tree almost each day from the time they were in blossom, from January this year,  in order to go back to the summer months during my school days. For about six years, I would have been engaged in gathering the cashew fruits during summer holidays, till the land was sold.  

During the monsoon months, at the week ends my mother would roast the cashew nuts in fire. I was given the chance to shell them to gather the kernel inside. The shelling was done with a pair of coconut shells. A roasted cashew was placed on one portion of a split coconut shell and with the other half of the shell, one could crack the roasted shell to gather the kernel. I confess that I kept eating, while doing this, so much so, my mother would be surprised by having only small portion left at the end of shelling the nuts. 

It was similar with banana. Once the bunch was ripe, whenever I passed by, where it was hanging, I helped myself. In order to have a sense of humour, I was crafty to split the skin with a knife and take out the pulp and leave the skin of banana hanging! When my mother would go to peel the banana from its stalk, she would only have the peel left in her hand. My mother did not mind that practical joke except that I had to eat the full plate of food served, even if I had filled my tummy with banana fruit just before the meal time.

The two cashew trees in our garden with fruits, bring many memories of my childhood! It is good to recall how one's childhood was conditioned by restraints and freedom!

Anna makes fruit juice from the pulp of the cashew fruit. It is refreshing drink! 

 As I write this, I have a sense of having been blessed by my parents !

M.C.Mathew(text and photo)