One day a buyer called me a Zen fruit. I said, yes, yes! I am full of paradox. I call into question many of the assumptions people have.
I have rough green exterior with bubbly scales, perfected over centuries. The result is a fine sculptural art form. While I may not look attractive to all, many ponder how my skin has been crafted so beautifully. Inside I have white elongated fleshy pods each with a dark seed. These pods are neatly arranged and connected to a central conical stock. If you peek inside, you will gasp at the marvelous structural engineering that holds all the pods tightly together.
Fruit vendors have a love hate relationship with me. I fetch good money. They like that. But I ripen very quickly and can’t be stored for long. They don’t like that. I say that is the way life is.
When ripe, you can use your bare hands to break me open but looking at me you would be tempted to use a knife. Looks can be deceiving. My flesh is sweet and has a delicate aroma. Wholesome goodness. But many avoid eating me. Because one must learn to use the teeth and tongue synchronously to tease out the seeds from each pod. Then you must spit them out. It seems that is bad etiquette. You know what? It doesn’t bother me. I am happy as I am. A Zen fruit.