Then the letter would come, a letter telling I am supposed to come back to B'lore. The last week of May would be for returning to Bangalore, back to school, back to books, and back to everything I disliked. In the last week of May granny would make a fire pit and we would throw cashew-nuts we collected in the two months into the fire. This was followed by the aroma of burning cashew. Granny always knew when to put the fire off, and the right time in which the nuts would be fried. Then we would put sand to douse the fire. This was followed by another batch of nuts, and another, till we were out of cashew nuts.
Then we would take some light weight and crack open the nuts. Some were packed into bottles for me to take it to Bangalore. It was fun having cashew this way. Now a days I go to a shop and buy haldirams salted cashew. But this doesn't taste any good. No where near the cashews I collected and granny burnt for me. My hands used to be very dirty after cracking those nuts due to the oil, but the fun was priceless. The more cashews I collected the more I could get to eat in the end.
A week back when I was traveling in Moodabirdi, the smell of burning cashew brought back these memories. Missing the place where I grew up, missing granny at that place. Now she has shifted to Kasargod town.
PS: Sorry about the subject line. Could not find a better one.