Is there a tree where different types of fruits tempt you, but there is that one fruit missing, the one you love the most. You remember the tenderness, the succulent feel that satiated your soul. Yet, this tree crowded with fruits, burdened branches where crowds rush in, as if this is a miracle. One tree can yield so many different fruits, but the hunger for some respite from the lack of tenderness of life; hoping, one bite, it’s mellowness can heal the soul. But the hand trembles and the mouth anesthetized by an alien lusciousness, a kind of delirium arrests the exuberance- the ambrosia must have been poisoned. The tree looks suspicious, and it starts trembling, its roots resemble the thousand hands of evil, pulling it in, like a sacrificial ritual.