Talking about oranges again, I come from orange country and the fruit reminds me of langorous afternoons, of basking in the reluctant warmth of a pale wintry sun, gorging on oranges from Jatinga. Apart from the world-famous mystery of the birds, Jatinga then had the most luscious oranges with sprawling orchards in the foothills of the beautiful Barail Ranges. We normally did not buy the fruit from the market because the women from Jatinga would come all the way to town carrying their wares in bamboo baskets.They would sit on the verandah while my mother sorted the fruit and they would talk about the yield, the weather and every generation's
favourite topic- the signs of the times! The colour of oranges did justice to their name, the same that one would associate with vibrant sunsets..."The sun was an orange ball of fire..." By late January I will have gorged on my fair share of oranges. The piquancy will have gone but maybe next winter I shall catch the magic in the same transcient smell in a crowded place. That will definitely put the zing and the tang back into the start of another orange-flavoured season!
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