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Pomegranates

Roshan Taneja

Ms Dellamano

AP English Language and Composition

9 September 2023

Pomegranates

Pomegranates are not fruit; they're a task. A multi-seeded, succulent, red and sweet job that requires skill, time, and a hefty spoon. Their leathery skin protects a treasure trove of juicy arils, nature's equivalent of Gushers, that lie packed together like rubies in a jewel box.

Pomegranates have been celebrated for thousands of years, symbolising abundance in many cultures. And modern science, for once, seems to back up ancient sentimentality. Research indicates that pomegranates are full of antioxidants, can improve cholesterol levels, and might even fight off some types of cancer (15 Health Benefits of Pomegranate Juice). All this, and they're low in calories and fat. They are, perhaps, the healthiest inconvenience you can subject yourself to, a lesson in delayed gratification that pays off in health benefits and the occasional stained T-shirt.

Which brings me to my pomegranate tree.

When my family moved to California in 2011, my neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Rao, had this gargantuan pomegranate tree that leaned over the fence between our properties like our kindly old neighbours. Mr. and Mrs. Rao were in their 60s and immediately made us feel at home. As a 5-year-old, I felt like they were my third set of grandparents.

We had figs, avocados, lemons, apples, and peaches in our yard; but the only thing missing from our fruit garden was a pomegranate tree. But that didnt affect us, as we had this natural marvel next door. During the summer when I was 10,  a pomegranate sapling appeared on our side of the fence, a little blessing from Mr. Rao's tree. My grandparents tapped a tiny irrigation pipe into the tree, and miraculously, it bore fruit within two years. As if cued by the universe, Mr Rao's tree fell sick and died. It left me with the Herculean task of keeping its only offspring alive

Our first harvest brought us four enormous fruits, each larger than a grapefruit. Two went to the Raos with a note reassuring them that their tree's legacy would live on. One went to the temple with my mother, a gesture of gratitude. And the last one? We beat it with a spoon, collected the seeds, and devoured them in less than five minutes.

Despite some squirrel-induced setbacks, the tree continued to bless us with more fruit each year. As per tradition, Mr Rao would receive his share, as would the temple, leaving us pondering what to do with our remaining bounty. Every breakfast and dinner would be bookended for the next few weeks with either a bowl of seeds or a glass of juice. I liked to eat the seeds slowly, one at a time, savouring the taste.

The years passed, and I became close friends with Mr. and Mrs. Rao. Our fall tradition of sharing pomegranates became a cherished event, a way to connect again after a long summer break. These meetings happened frequently, but more was needed. 

Mr Rao died last month. I had left for camp the day before and didn't learn about it until I returned three weeks later. The grief was slow, as writer Trebor Healy put it in A Horse Named Sorrow, "I felt my heart crack, slowly, like a pomegranate, spilling its seeds."

Throughout mythology, pomegranates have referenced death in one way or another. Pomegranate seeds are what Hades used to entrap Persephone in the underworld for six months a year; in Ancient Egypt, pomegranates were buried with the dead to help them pass into the afterlife. They were also said to symbolise life, paradise, and temptation. But they also represent fertility and life. The thousands of seeds seem symbolic of wishing someone life. Often, pomegranate seeds are crushed underfoot at weddings to ensure a fertile wedding with many children.

I don't try to think about my mortality. Why? As Andy Dufresne said in Shawshank Redemption, "Get busy living or get busy dying". Still, standing beneath the branches of my pomegranate tree, I can't help but feel that I, too, have taken on the herculean task of … living. The tree’s very existence is interwoven with the cycles of life and death. The tree, roots, and branches all shared the same soil with another now-gone tree, inviting me to ponder life’s impermanence. Seneca once said, “It is not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste a lot of it”. Perhaps he’s right.

Just as these pomegranate seeds burst forth from their leathery skin, only to be consumed and eventually gone, so do our lives unfurl, vibrant but brief. Each seed is like a life, a single moment, fleeting and lovely. We devour these seeds, thinking that one day, we will run out – for the tree, for Mr Rao, for all of us. But for now, they offer the sweetest (or most sour) lesson: that life, with all of its tasks, is meant to be savoured, one moment at a time.

I don't see Mrs. Rao much these days. She stays inside, understandably so. I take her trash bins out on Tuesdays and return them on Wednesdays. The pomegranate tree, however, stands resilient, still bearing its burdensome yet glorious fruits. After the harvest this fall, they’ll be there on Mr Rao’s doorstep. I give pomegranates 5 stars.

Works Cited

"15 Health Benefits of Pomegranate Juice." Iran Daily (Tehran, Iran), 16 Feb. 2017. Gale General OneFile, research.ebsco.com/linkprocessor/plink?id=81ad6b29-fe7d-36cf-9e74-1be34f48cf50.

  • A pomegranate is not a fruit, it's a task.
    • First crack the shell open, spilling seeds everywhere.
    • Grab a big spoon and start whacking.
    • Nature's gushers.
  • Research on pomegranates
    • Health properties
    • juice?
    • low calories/fat
  • delayed gratification
  • pomegranate tree in backyard
    • When I moved to California in 2011, my neighbors had a huge pomegranate that dangled over the fence between our houses
    • My neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Rao were amazing people. Between 60-70 when I first move at the age of 5
    • We always had our own fruit trees in our backyard, figs, avocados, lemons, apples, and peaches, but never pomegranates.
      • Why should we? After all, there were so many growing next door, right?
    • When I was 10, I noticed a little tree growing near the bushes along the fence a little ways down from the original pomegranate tree.
    • My grandparents ran a little pipe from our preexisting irrigation loop to the tree, and within 2 years, the tree began to bear fruit.
      • a little pomegranate tree
    • As if on cue, that summer, Mr. Rao's tree fell sick and died, leaving me with the pressure of keeping its only child alive.
    • In our first harvest, we received 4 massive fruits, bigger than grapefruits.
      • 2 of the fruits went to the Raos, grieving the loss of their own tree, and a little note specifying that even though their tree was gone, we would make sure that ours would survive.
      • 1 fruit went with my mother to the temple, for thankfulness
      • 1 fruit remained at home
        • We made a bowl of seeds, after 30 minutes of whacking
        • It was gone in 5 minutes.
    • The next year, 4 of our 6 pomegranates had been eaten by squirrels.
      • My grandfather and I purchased a huge net and covered the entire tree (which stood at about 7 feet tall at this point)
    • By 2018 the tree was bearing 10 - 12 fruits, for nearly the whole summer.
      • As usual, 2 would go to Mr. Rao, and 1 to the temple, leaving us with nearly 10 pomegranates.
      • Whatever would we do with 10 pomegranates?
    • Over the last few years, I had gotten very close with Mr and Mrs Rao.
    • I would come to bring the pomegranates every summer and we would talk outside their front door just remembering the good times.
    • Just a month ago, Mr Rao died.
      • I wasn't even there. I was away at a residential program on the other side of the country.
      • When my mother came to pick me up, I finally learned what had happened.
      • " I felt my heart crack, slowly, like a pomegranate, spilling its seeds" - Trebor Healy, A Horse Named Sorrow
    • I don't see Mrs Rao much anymore
      • I still take out the trash bins for her every Tuesday night and bring them back in every Wednesday morning.
    • the tree is still standing, bearing fruit.
      • Once we collect them this month, I'll make sure Mrs Rao gets the Pomegranates.
  • I give Pomegranates 5 stars.