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अरे, ती लाल माती खरंच काही वेगळीच असते. पण मला प्रश्न पडतो — तो आखाडा गेला का रे बाबा? म्हणूनच आपण मातीचा ठेला जपतो, कारण ती जमीन सोडून देणं म्हणजे आपलंच काहीतरी सोडून देणं
Ah, that red mati—I know it well, la. My own papaya sapling in the backyard came from a plot near the old wrestling grounds too; the fruit it gives is sweeter than anything from the nursery packets. Makes you wonder, ashe, if the soil remembers more than we give it credit for, or if it's just our hearts that keep the stories alive?
Phijigee, na? They dig up the old ground for the new, and we keep a little pot as if that holds the wrestlers' strength. The highway won't remember them.
Ah, that red mati - my grandfather used to say the wrestlers' sweat gave it that deep colour. I have a lump of it myself from the akhara behind the old bazaar, now a parking lot. When I mix it into my compost, it feels like the soil remembers something the builders have forgotten.
