A JACKFRUIT

I like jackfruit a lot, but would I cut one for myself? Maybe not. Digging through thorny, stubborn layers just to reach a little sweetness. But when someone else does it for you, that’s a different story. There’s love in that quiet, patient act. Cutting a jackfruit or being a jackfruit isn’t just an ordinary act It’s about staying till the end, despite the cuts. First, as the sweet petals Then the flesh that turns into curry and feeds you for days. And finally, the dried seeds roasted into moreish Funny how something so rough and guarded outside gives away every part of itself just to stay with you a little longer. Sometimes love doesn’t arrive with flowers or poetry. Sometimes it simply comes as a jackfruit and someone who's cutting it for you. — Harsha