Convocation

A 1000 mangoes

Atop a large Mango tree

One of the finest orchards

The rarest Alphonsos.

As the tree flowers

The farmer rejoices

Another great crop

Of fine Alphonsos

And then he

Somehow disappears

As if rejoicing

Was the last obligation.

The tree stands eager

to get rid of the fruits

Their burden now bogging it down.

The farm opens to the pluckers

And how they grab the juicy fruits!

But always,

Some on the top are left untouched

Waiting for a brave plucker

To set an eye on it

Saving itself from rotting.

But how many a mangoes rot!

Rotting is inevitable.

On the trees,

In the godowns

In the seller’s basket

Also at times

In a lazy customer’s fridge

Difficult is the delight

For a mango to attain

Of feeding a mouth

Its juice and pulp in all its purity

A purposeful life

A mango’s nirvana!

Meanwhile, the farmer

Busies himself for yet another crop

Oblivious to the mango’s fate

For the prices have been settled

for the last produce.