Ranu drew an orange on the wall with piece charcoal, that she had found on her way out of her grandfather's place. The brown muddy wall gave it a rustic look of a spoilt orange. That one broken wall with a broken chair is where her grandfather often takes her, on his way to steal some puffs of the bidi from her grandmother's eyes.
Ranu's grandfather asked her what she had drawn on the wall because little Ranu's sketch betrayed her intentions and turned out as a sloppy circle, upon which a line was trying to balance its a frame. "Olanj" is the word that slipped its way out of her mouth, politely excusing the candy & her tongue, splashing on some saliva.
"What's an olanj?" asked her grandfather, he has seen oranges in fruits shop, getting fanned by the fruitseller in scorching heat but he had never bought one, so he isn't aware of the taste that it leaves on one's tongue also he only knows the local name of orange not the foreign one, his ears just received.
Ranu chewed her candy and pushed it down her throat, then she said, "you don't know olanj? O fol olanj. Didn't you read in school?"
Her grandfather said, "show me in your book then!"
When they reached home, she showed her grandfather what "olanj" looks like from her book.
Her grandfather sighed and said, "it's santra not olanj. Have you ever tasted one?"
Ranu said, "yes my father brings every now and then. Mother peels it and gives me a plate. It's sweet, sometimes it's sour."
That day when he went to meet his friends over a game of cards, he told everyone about his newly learned foreign word "o fol olanj ".