Childhood can’t be weighed in years, but in memory. There are certain things only make sense during childhood—the ridiculous laughter, the skinned knees, and the bizarre pleasure of consuming something so sour it isn’t good for you. For most of us in hills especially Kalimpong, Maldero is the one fruit that embodies all that and more: Maldero a Sour Bite of Sweet Nostalgia. In reality named Mallero, but properly mispronounced by all the children in the community, Maldero was never simply a fruit. It was a feeling and a calling. A sip of liberty smothered in tartness, followed by friendship and a pinch of fear of being caught.