Kairi Season – Cristical

Every summer someone's nana or dadi had a mango tree. And every summer that tree became the centre of the world.

A rope tied to the strongest branch the jhula every cousin fought over. Raw kairi stolen from the highest branch, eaten with salt and chilli right there in the field. And scattered between the roots, small red Indian jujubes that tasted like summer itself.

This is a long necklace like the rope of that jhula, hanging from a branch. The deep green stones are those raw mangoes, sour and perfect. The red stones are the jujubes. The gold is the afternoon light that made everything feel endless.