It was time the sun arrived when he decided going to bed again. After last night chocolate truffle the cough had soared. In his sleep he chanced upon the pizzas of fat lulu because only they had items where he could find some vegetarian ones. The voice inside him for many months had been asking him to leave dairy. Even when it is the best time to be a cow in India, he thought, milk like few other well marketed products have been projected as a necessity to humanity. So he started writing alternatives whenever any possible eatable came to his mind. He wrote it on a small diary he was keeping in the right cheek of his behind. But while on the road that led to an elite market, he saw a fruit man selling in February a watermelon. Is there something called a season ? Because time seems to have taken a back seat. But he stopped, thinking all fruits are good. When Manu Called he was counting his chewing the papaya in his mind, to make sure he reaches thirty two before he could put the next slice. Standing, his eyes stopped at a few children who were praying and garlanding their parents. It was a sight. Who prays first of all. And to their parents!! Something happened? Are they alright? Many Mothers, fathers seated on chairs at a podium and many little kids taking one round after another with a garland made of marigolds and a ghee Diya lit kept on a plate. Parents looked proud and took many selfies. They sang and danced afterwards when a young woman suddenly came upfront and stood beside him, looking at his mouth desirously or could it be a new way of begging. But she stood watching and the moment he dropped his gaze on her, she overturned like a rubber, like body with an elastic spine and summersaulted standing where she was. Her prize was the left Papaya’s, Watermelon’s, Carrot’s and many other fruits that you never find in February.