Java plums, or jamun as we call it, takes me back to my classroom in 10th std. (it’s standard, not grade. Why do Indians call it ‘grade’? Unless they’ve changed it now). This was in Mangalore and it rained everyday during monsoons. I’d sit by the window and look out because day dreaming was a part of my own personal curriculum. There it was. A tall jamun tree studded with several bunches of the ripe plums. That’s it. That’s the image I have plastered in my mind of this fruit and what it reminds me of. A simpler time. A simpler place. I baked the cheesecake last evening and it rained this morning to make it all seem perfect. Last year I’d made cake with it and this time I wanted to use it in a cheesecake.