The Tamarind Tree and Two Friends

It was the last day of school before the long-awaited summer holidays. The sun was already blazing, hinting at the fierce summer to come. Geeta, a cheerful but shy little girl from Class Two, and Ramu, a sprightly boy from Class Three, were practically buzzing with excitement. They were neighbors, friends, and partners-in-mischief. Geeta, though timid around others, was her real self only with Ramu, who never disappointed her. She loved bossing him around, and he, in turn, enjoyed fulfilling her endless wishes.

As the final bell rang and children poured out of their classrooms, laughter and chatter filled the air. Farewells were exchanged like treasures, promises to meet during the holidays tossed around with careless innocence. Geeta and Ramu strolled out of their school building, their eyes already twinkling with plans.

“I don’t want to go by the school bus today,” Geeta declared. “It’s the last day. Let’s walk home!”

Ramu scratched his head. “Walk all the way? It’s so far!”

“It’s not that far! Besides, we can explore. You know, like adventurers!”

Ramu’s grin widened. “Alright, let’s skip the bus!”

And so, with bags slung over their shoulders and freedom in their hearts, they set off. The road stretched ahead, bordered by grand old trees and spacious grounds of the cantonment area. The air smelled of fresh leaves, dust, and the promise of endless summer days.

As they walked, they spoke of schoolmates and teachers, making exaggerated imitations and laughing at their own cleverness. Ramu recounted how Somu slipped on a banana peel during lunch, and Geeta nearly doubled over with laughter.

“Oh! And Mani was making faces behind Teacher’s back. She turned around so quickly, his face froze like this!” Ramu crossed his eyes and puffed his cheeks.

Geeta giggled uncontrollably. “He looks like a squashed tomato when he does that!”

They laughed about their exams, too. “You know, in my class, the math paper was so tough, but I solved that big division problem easily!” Ramu boasted as if he were a math genius.

Geeta sighed. “I just hope I wrote the right answers. The spelling test was so confusing!”

“Don’t worry, Geeta! You always get stars in your notebook. I’m sure you aced it!” Ramu reassured her with the wisdom of being a class elder.

The path twisted and turned, taking them past clusters of tamarind trees. The branches were heavy with fruit, some dangling low enough to taunt them.

“Can we pluck some tamarinds?” Geeta asked eagerly, her eyes wide with excitement.

Ramu looked around with a conspiratorial smile. “Of course! We’re adventurers, aren’t we?”

They gathered stones and started aiming at the clusters of tamarinds. After a few failed attempts and plenty of laughter, Ramu finally hit the mark. A couple of tamarinds dropped down.

“Here, Geeta. You keep these,” Ramu said, handing them over like prized treasures.

Geeta beamed. “I’ll give some to my mother and sister.”

They continued their playful assault on the tree until their bags were weighed down with the bounty. Finally exhausted, they flopped down under the shade of the tamarind tree. Geeta unwrapped one tamarind and took a cautious bite.

“Sour!” she squealed, making a face.

“That’s why it’s fun!” Ramu laughed, popping one into his mouth and grinning through the tangy taste. “Bet you can’t eat three at once!”

“Bet you can’t even eat two!” she shot back, eyes gleaming.

They laughed and chattered, their words drifting off into the warm afternoon. They spoke of dreams as grand as the banyan tree down the road and worries as small as ants.

Having eaten far too many tamarinds, they soon realized their water bottles were empty. Geeta frowned, feeling the dryness in her throat.

Ramu noticed her discomfort and without a word, marched up to the gate of a nearby house. He knocked confidently. When a man answered, Ramu spoke politely, “Uncle, can you please give us some water? Our bottles are empty, and my friend is very thirsty. We have to walk a long way.”

Geeta hid shyly behind Ramu, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. How could he ask a stranger like that? But there he was, standing tall and speaking as if he owned the world.

The man smiled kindly and took Ramu’s bottle, returning shortly with it filled. “Here you go,” he said with a gentle nod.

“Thank you, Uncle!” Ramu chirped, flashing a toothy grin. As they continued their walk, they shared the water.

“Do you know him?” Geeta asked, her voice still tinged with awe.

“No, but it’s fine. A boy from this house also happens to be from our school,” Ramu said nonchalantly.

Geeta looked at Ramu with newfound admiration. He was more than her loyal playmate. He was brave and caring. And though she often ordered him around, he never seemed to mind.

As they neared their street, the excitement of their adventure began to fade, replaced by growing anxiety. What if their parents scold them? What if they weren’t allowed to go out and play again?

Geeta’s worry deepened with every step. “Ramu, what if my mother scolds me? We’ve been out for so long…”

Ramu patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Geeta. I’ll tell your parents it was my idea. I made you walk home with me. If they get angry, they can scold me instead.”

Geeta felt a weight lift off her chest. She looked at Ramu, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. “You always make everything better.”

But when they reached home, no one scolded them. Instead, Geeta’s mother called out, “Come and eat! You two must be tired from school.” They glanced at each other, surprised, then laughed.

“We could have played more at the tamarind tree,” Ramu sighed.

“Yes, we should have stayed longer,” Geeta agreed wistfully.

But that was the last time they walked home together. Ramu’s family moved away suddenly during the holidays. Geeta returned to find his house empty, her only friend gone without a single goodbye. She missed him dearly, wondering if Ramu had at least wanted to leave her some way to write to him. She never had another friend quite like him.

Ramu, now in a new city, often gazed out of his window, imagining the tamarind tree swaying gently in the breeze. He missed Geeta’s cheerful bossiness, her shy giggles, and their shared adventures. The tamarind tree became a cherished memory — a symbol of a friendship he hoped she remembered.

That tamarind tree remained unchanged, its branches heavy with fruit. But the children who played under it were torn apart by life’s circumstances.

Some friendships are like tamarind—a little sweet, a little sour, but forever unforgettable.