where the writer placed the seeds of cherry (poetry name-cherry tree. ,std - 11th)
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One day, when Rakesh was six, he walked from the Mussoorie bazaar eating cherries. They were a little sweet, a little sour; small, bright red cherries, which had come all the way from the Kashmir valley.
Here in the Himalayan foothills where Rakesh lived, there were not many fruit trees. The soil was stony, and the dry cold winds stunted the growth of most plants. But on the more sheltered slopes there were forests of oak and deodar.
Rakesh lived with his grandfather on the outskirts of Mussoorie, just where the forest began.
Grandfather was a retired forest ranger. He had a little cottage outside the town.
Rakesh was on his way home from school when he bought the cherries. He paid fifty paisa for the bunch. It took him about half an hour to walk home, and by the time he reached the cottage there were only three cherries left.