Peachy Affair

Almost two years ago I bought peaches from the grocery store’s local produce section here in US. There was something about the peaches that caught my attention, I can swear they had a golden glow (but I guess that will be easily discounted as hyperbole).

The peaches had the freshness and smell that brought back some childhood memories. They almost reminded me of the earthly smell of early monsoon back home in India. You can only romanticize the smells at the onset of monsoon; later the damp smell feel stale and overbearing as the rains and fog envelop you constantly for the next three months.The other good part about early monsoons was the fruity tradition, a carton of freshly picked peaches, apricots, plums & pears- the 'Pahari' fruits made their way from Nani’s orchards in Paharpani all the way to Nainital for us kids.

Needless to say, there was just no way that I could ignore the urge to put some in my shopping cart. They looked good, even better than the ones that made the hilly trek back home and I was already counting the odds if they could rival the old ones in taste. Sometimes you wish your guardian angels can step in and hold you back before you make such comparative tests of character- even if it is just peaches.

Those peaches were heavenly just like the ones from my Nani’s farm. They had the perfect smell and the perfect peachy juiciness. I ate all but one, I wanted to share it with my roommate who was not much of a fruit enthusiast but I was almost certain she would turn a new leaf when she tasted one of these. My enthusiasm knew no bounds and I called up my mom to tell her of my discovery.

I again went later in the week to get some more of those godly peaches, but I didn't get the same ones. They felt drier-almost drained of their juiciness. My quest continued, my roommate introduced me to peach yogurt as a substitute. I also experimented with peach ice-cream for a while, but you can’t fill a void with yogurt or ice-cream. I took this obsession to the next level with peach long island and Snapple peach black tea. But to no avail..

And since that day I am the cursed ones, looking for those same peaches and having never found them again. I buy them each time only to be let down, I have three peaches in my refrigerator but there are nowhere close to the ones I am seeking.

When I dig deeper about my Peach-fanaticism, I can clearly see how the germ entered my system, as a child I was not a big peach fan. When I was leaving India towards the end of July and I was doing my list of things to eat before I leave, my mom especially bought me some Pahari apricots (we no more have Monsoon fruit basket coming from my Nani’s orchard, that tradition slowly ended with her death). I believe those apricots were just my mom’s way to reconnect with a childhood tradition. With that one gesture she had triggered something else. It was not really about peaches or apricots anymore, it was love for a shared inheritance.

So I understand that this peach quest might be a bigger metaphor in my life, but currently my search is on a purely fruity level at least that’s what I want to believe..