Sitafal

During my bouts of insomnia I have been envisioning the fleshy pieces of the sitafal fruit in my mouth and trying to think up the best way to describe this delightful specimen.  This trip is the first time I have come to India during the monsoon season since 1998.  All of my trips out here in the 80s and 90s were in the summer months.  But in both 2006 and 2008 I got to experience a more moderate and less mosquito-ridden India.  It was truly glorious.  But one thing was missing.  During my childhood and adolescent visits, I would be greeted by Aruna Masi with an entire thali of sitafal fruit.  It was and always will be my favorite fruit on the planet.  Yesterday we became reunited.  I was calling her name off the gangway.  Tejal Bhabhi took us to the fruit market and there she was.  My eyes focused in as everything around her became fuzzy.  I did an entire photo shoot before I actually had the pleasure of indulging.  I realize this all sounds a bit obscene.  But I am unapologetic.  The verdict is still out but it may be true that the trade with mother-nature may be worth it.  I may decide by the end of this trip that 98% percent humidity and an equally high percentage chance of traveller's diarrhea is the price one must pay to be able to enjoy the splendors of the sitafal.

Sitafal are ready to eat when they are so ripe that the white insides start to puss out of the amphibious and bruised skin.  On the outside they are as unflattering as the toad begging the princess to transform him into a prince.  In the case of the sitafal, the transformation requires a delicate twist of the wrists.  You take the palm-sized fruit and pull apart ever.so.gently until you have two halves cupped neatly in each hand.  You can use a spoon or simply your mouth to slowly enjoy one or a few seeds at a time.  When you open the insides you are greeted by a  mountain range of snow-covered seeds.  The white flesh outside each individually wrapped seed has a texture unlike anything else.  There are really two layers to the flesh.  The first feels like a thin covering of mushy banana.  You can remove that first by putting the meaty seed in your mouth.  You are left with a second very thin layer of flesh that is slightly tougher.  You need to rub the seed between your tongue and the roof of your mouth to undress the bodice.  And you are left with a jet-black, smooth, and hard seed to spit out before shoving a few more snow-covered pieces into your mouth.  It's sweet but not over-the-top.  The sugar is slightly grainy and you can feel it's residue on your tongue after. 

Sitafal are high in iron and packed with calories.  It also makes for a delicious flavored ice-cream.  After I posted Sita's pictures on Flickr Bisse sent me a link to a quickie article about the fruit.  From there I learned that it's ground-up seeds are often used as an Ayeruvedic treatment for head lice.  And the fruit was named after the wife of the god Ram, Sita. Tejal Bhabhi tells me there is a fruit named after Sita's companion called Ramful.  I think she was serious but as I sit here and write this I realize she may have been pulling my leg too.