Precious psychic words,

Fly me to my love!



Powerful, mighty eagles,

Fly me to my love!

Up and above,

Valleys and mountain tops,

Oceans and lands,

Fly me to my love!

Touch him,

Kiss him,

Fondle him,

Squeeze him!



Divine words,

Fly me to my love!

Pierce his heart,

Conquer his soul,

Possess him,

Enchant him,

Make him my own!



Invisible atoms of my soul,

Fly me to my love!




Ejaculating in joyous delight,

Fly me to my love!

Anita Bacha©









I spent a great deal of my childhood days at the place of my grandmother and in the company of my elder sister, Romi.  My sister was a plump, docile and very girlish child. She was my best friend when my brother, Jan, was not around.

My grandmother, Nani, was a rich widow. She lived in a big wooden and shingle roofed house in the city of Curepipe. Nani’s house was nestled in the heart of a large property covered with exotic fruit trees.

A tomboy, a relentless adventurer and explorer, I loved to climb the trees, play at imaginative games, and hide in their leaves. I was simply and purely fascinated by trees.

I was particularly impressed by a majestic Bell Fruit tree (also called Zamalac or Zeanbosse tree in Mauritius or  Jamrul tree in India) that stood in the midst of the vast terrain. It was always laden with big, juicy and tantalizing zeanbosses. The fruits were white in color whereas other fruits of the same family were comparatively smaller and either pink or red. Unfortunately, children were not allowed to go near this tree and were strictly forbidden from eating the white zeanbosses.

‘It was possessed by a spirit’ Nani told us. ‘Leave this tree and its fruits alone!’ She severely cautioned us.

However, one fateful day when Nani was absent from home, I made up my mind to climb the zeanbosse tree and to taste the forbidden fruit. Romi was playing quietly with her dolls in a corner. I summoned her and asked her to join me. At first she refused and reminded me of the spirit. Then she gave in and meekly followed me. She revered me as a leader in audacious games and dreadful adventures.

We slipped out of the house noiselessly and headed for the coveted tree. Once in close proximity, I could not help feeling an eerie atmosphere around the tree. It made my heart pound with excitement, mischievous delight and awe. Ripe, luscious zeanbosses were hanging from the over laden branches. Even more so, the fruits were practically sweeping the ground covered with dry leaves. I looked up and my eyes caught sight of a beautiful, shiny zeanbosse at the top of the tree.

In no time I frayed my way through the tangled branches and started to climb the tree with astounding agility like a monkey. Romi yelled out at me to stop and to come back. I did not pay heed to her. My mind was set at reaching for the forbidden fruit.

When I reached the top, I hurriedly reached out for the fruit. When all of a sudden a branch of the tree hit me violently like a big slap in the face.  I shut my eyes. Behind my closed eyelids, I saw the sun and the blue sky in an aperture between the rich green leaves.

The next thing I knew was that I was lying in bed surrounded by my parents and other family members. My mother was sobbing.

To cut a long story short, Romi ran for rescue when I fell from the tree like a bag of potatoes. I was carried unconscious to Nani’s house. When later she arrived, she called for a local healer cum psychic, a ‘hoja’. He brought me out of what he professionally qualified as a ‘trance’. I had fallen from a height of 15 feet unscathed. I had no bruise, no injury and no broken bone.

One of the worst rabble-rouser in the family, I had become a ‘miracle child’ thanks to the forbidden fruit!

Anita Bacha