The Forbidden Fruit(ion)

By Laya Shankar

A short, timid hill stood before me, unintimidating and completely conquerable. I stared at its soft, lime green fur, seeming more like a cuddly pet than a hurdle to endure. The cheery rows of leaves beckoned for my fingers to reach for their refreshing, chilly cuticles. Behind them, I could see a magnificent behemoth of a tree, staring into my eyes, offering me a challenging wink. A round, juicy fruit dangled from its branches, swaying temptingly. Its vibrant color infused into the mural of flora. I speculated the masterpiece in front of me, admiring each swirl and speck on the hill, and then pulled myself away from it. I had no need to cross it that day, it was after all just a tiny mound which would still be effortless to traverse the next day. I stole one last glance at the elegant fruit and then sauntered off.

My first encounter with the hill is exactly two weeks old as I venture to visit it again. I sheepishly creep up to face it, and what meets my eyes puts a halt to my breath. The kind creature I met a fortnight ago has been replaced by a terrifying beast. Its smooth coat of green has faded and instead hosts coarse, rocky skin, in a heartless shade of gray. Where leaves once were are now tough, merciless beds of thorns. Its crown, which used to be a fluffy hat of trees, is now the chapped lips of the brutal monster I have created. The mouth of it snarls and spits fire, striving to hurt and consume the cause for its hideous state. Me.

“It’s okay, you can still do this” I try reassuring myself. I grasp and cling to its scorching surface, crawling up it with the speed of a tortoise and making very little progress. As I continue my struggle, I realise that the scrumptious trophy I was striving to reach was nowhere in sight. “I suppose it must be blocked by this cruel volcano by now” I sigh, craving the mere sight of it. The gravity of my situation ceaselessly weighs me down, but I continue to fight my way up. Once I am near the peak, an indescribable sense of relief overcomes me. My eyes expectantly look down to search for the tree that cradles my prize. It scowls at me bitterly. My sad gaze trails down to find that my beautiful fruit has withered and has grown far out of reach. A sharp spike pierces my heart. I lean forward to grab it, hoping I can still cherish whatever little magic it has left. Just as I do, a large boulder, wobbling precariously above me on a cliff, rolls down. It tears me away from the yearned reward and drags me down with it, its excruciating pressure is too much to bear. Just as we both crash onto the ground, I can hear a quote my mother always says play through my head,“This is why you should never procrastinate.”

By Laya Shankar