May 7, 2013 by tonyberkman
Before he died, Karamuva was the best tree climber of the village and the clusters surrounding it. He loved to clamber up anything green with stalks and leaves, planted to the earth and capable of withstanding human weight. From the bark in the grass, he could race to the top of the canopy within seconds, rubbing shoulders with the mint fresh growth and hanging on to tender shoots like a feather. His horizontal movement above the land was equally breathtaking. Part trapeze artist and part gibbon, he flitted effortlessly among branches and trees in seamless locomotion.
Few fruits grew on those lands that were untasted by Karamuvah but his heart harboured a special love for jamuns. Being part of an enormous household whose children were perennially scouring the pots for more food, he had turned to the juicy purple-black berries to quench his pangs with a vengeance. Come summers and…
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