The Mango Tree

Spooky

“Hey! Look…there’s…..someone I think, look, quickly- the Mango tree!”

 

Munim was shaken out of his reveries. He shrugged off his quilt and mumbled. He had slept with difficulty, with the telly blaring on. On repeated requests Angie had donned headphones and he’d fallen asleep at last. What time was it?

 

“Mun, look, please wake up,” Angie pleaded, removing his quilt with a jerk. 

 

“Please Angie, I need my sleep, I have an early start, there’s no one nowhere,” 

But Munim had been asked for help, he had to wake up to the rescue. 

 

“I swear, I see the leaves moving, and I see shadows.”

 

“Gawd Angie!” 

 

They both peered through the netting of their well-done windows. Yes, the leaves were rustling on a windless night. The moon shone on the Mango tree. It looked resplendent, showing off luscious fruits, hanging off many strong branches. It could be an eerie sight, were it not a familiar one. 

 

“Right. Do you still see someone, coz I don’t. May I return to the comfort of my quilt please,” Munim grumbled. 

A door slammed shut somewhere in the house. The wind was picking up. The branches quivered and a fruit fell, thud! Angie shivered too, and dug into Munim’s arm.

“Did you not hear that?” Angie’s voice betraying anxiety. 

“Yes, I did indeed,” Munim responded from beneath the covers,  even as he removed his wife’s nails from his upper arm, “fruits, when ripe, do tend to fall off on their own.”

 

“Listen, there was a storm predicted. Surely God is allowed to move the elements around a little without your wondering what he’s upto every night,” Munim muttered to his wife of many years. 

 

“Evvvvery night you say, nasty,” and then she let out a scream. 

“I saw him, I saw him, someone has climbed down and collected the fallen fruits, I swear Moon, I swear!” 

 

Munim threw off the cover, and pulled on his slippers. He asked himself if there really was anything to fear after all. Angie wasn’t always right, but she wasn’t wrong either. She did have a sixth sense. He reluctantly walked straight out of the bedroom and switched on the patio lamp. The light cascaded on to their lawn and on the Mango Tree, which was swinging its branches in the winds that were now fast and getting furious. There did seem to be some activity going on around the tree, but there was no one to be seen. He pulled open the sliding doors that led to the patio, next to the small strip of lawn. The smaller tree next to the Mango tree stood still, unlike the larger cousin. What the hell! 

Munim also sensed that the winds seemed to only affect the stronger of the two- why had the littler tree remained unmoved? He was intrigued. Angie had, in the meantime picked up a vase from their living room, and had sneaked up behind her husband. 

 

“You might need this,” she whispered, and handed over the large ceramic vase, her voice betraying great fear. 

 

Munim was on the lawn, now admiring the high moon. Despite the winds it wasn’t a cool night. He was sweating, and he wiped his brow. Was he scared? He heard a distinct sound, like deep breathing, more like a wheeze. He gulped. His wife was inside the house, her silhouette, beautiful and surreal in the light that encased her. For a minute he was distracted by his wife’s contours, and desire arose. Even as he wrestled with a rising fear, his primal desires overcame him. Then he heard a thud. The sound rudely interrupted all else within, and he decided to explore the Mango tree, even if tentatively. 

 

Moving to the farthest end of the lawn, where the magnificent old tree stood, he begun to sense a presence other than his own. Fear made its way into his loins. All desire vanished. Once he found himself facing the swaying branches above him, he bent down to pick up a fallen unripe mango- which had split down its centre, revealing yellowing flesh, with a sweet and familiar pungency. Before he knew it, another fruit fell, hitting him hard on his head. He let out a muffled yell. Even as he rubbed his head of its hurt, he was aware that he mustn’t yell loudly- frightened Angie would possibly pass out. But she had heard him. 

 

Angie was in no state to follow Munim, and stood transfixed at the threshold of the night. 

She had broken into a sweat, as was her wont. 

“Mun, Munnnn…what is happening, please return, I told ya….!” 

 

“I’m okay, there’s nothing here, just falling fruits, a storm’s brewing- c’mon, all’s okay, you go back to bed. I’m coming in.” There was no response.

 

Yet, the unease which had entered his mind, was plaguing him. He felt the trembling of legs, and even as he gathered the three mangoes, he watched the smaller tree standing still, right there, mocking him. Why did it not move with the winds? Not a leaf fluttered. Its trunk �" like a one-legged elephant, stood hard, rooted into the ground. Its branches, statuesque and pretty, held up the skies above, unmoving. It was fascinating yet frightening. The Mango Tree swayed on. Munim had crawled away from under it. He brushed off the mud from his kurta and began to make his way back to the sliding doorway. His head was slapped hard. Now Munim broke into a run. He knew it was a branch, it had to be, but his throat caught and he did not dare look back. 

He was now certain, that whatever it was his wife had sensed, was out there, when he climbed back into bed next to Angie, who seemed to have exhausted every ounce of her fears and let go. He had drawn the curtains, and attempted to push out this thing that had got to him. His head hurt, but his heart hurt more. It had been strained and had pushed at his rational self fairly successfully. No, there are no spirits- he told himself, and shut his eyes. He put his arm around Angie, and held her tight. This was not a regular occurrence. 

 

What a strange night! He dreamt of swaying branches that were trying to get him, beat him up, and mangoes everywhere- ripe, unripe, peeled, unpeeled, and he woke up with a migraine. 

 

“Morning sweetheart!” Angie appeared by his bedside carrying a tray. The wooden tray was laden with a large mug of steaming warm lemon-honey water and a nice big bowl of fruit, luscious ripe mangoes! 

“Last night’s loot,” Angie smiled and put the tray down on the bedside table. 

 

 ©kamalininatesan May 2020

Reviews

[emmajoy]

Spooky indeed! You've created such an atmosphere. the coming storm, the married couple well aware of each other's characters, the rise and fall of their moods and the ever nearing whatever coming nearer and nearer. Was a strange mix at the point when the man suddenly felt aroused by his wife, unsure if that was because of a natural reaction or that of the spooky goings on... and then... then.. the story seemed to settle into an ongoing nightmare with something before Munim rushed into to bed and hugged his wife.

What a strange night! He dreamt of saying branches.. .. ..' Now then, had it been a bad dream, or... what? Such a well written story, unsure of the ending. but would and will happily read it again to discover more.