The blazing sun of Indian summer is bearable for many because of one major compensation: Mangoes. The excitement of sinking the teeth into the ‘king of fruits’ and having juice drip down the chin and trickle to the elbows makes people forget perspiration trickling down elsewhere. The heat is but a small hiccup when we have so much else on our plates — literally — in the form of mango desserts, mango milk shake, mango lassi as well as the dozens of varieties of mango pickles.
When we left our home state, which we shared with the ‘king of kings’ — the Alphonso mango — it seemed that we were going into exile. Was there anything to compare with that rich taste on our tongues? How would we survive, we wondered. What could make up for the heat and dust and discomfort of summer if we couldn’t indulge in mangoes three times a day — or four?
However, we need not have been afraid. To our good luck, we settled in the state with the largest production of mangoes in the country. Of course, we didn’t know that when we got here. We didn’t know it even when we had gorged our way through half of the yearly crop practically single-handedly. But we suspected it. How else was it possible that varieties of mangoes we had never heard of or seen before were available on hand carts and roadside stalls and overflowed from the backs of three-wheeled motorised tempos from early April to late July? As one variety died out, another took its place and we were never left wanting.
In summer, if you are anywhere near normal, you probably have a kilo or two of mangoes in a fruit bowl in the centre of the table along with some chikoos and bananas and everyone eats in moderation after their meal and goes about their day as usual.
Varying stages of ripening
Not so in our home. Here, mangoes are often the meal itself — so it follows that there are mangoes everywhere. The long stretch of kitchen counter, the tops of cupboards, the space below cupboards: All are packed with mangoes in varying stages of ripening. And they are not sitting there silently and uselessly. In our home, they generate employment.
Suddenly, in the summer months, the entire household takes an interest in what is going on in the kitchen — or at least on that kitchen counter! Concern for those mangoes overrides all other cares and there is joint effort where once there was no effort at all. Everyone wants to get the first ripe mango in the batch — and thus a constant stream of human traffic pauses and investigates all the hidden places. Everyone wants the biggest and the sweetest one and the guessing games begin: Which one will it be? Is it ripening? Is it ripening right?
A lot of heat is generated too. If suddenly an overripe mango catches the eye, fingers are pointed everywhere and accusations fly around unfettered. “How’s that you didn’t notice?” “Why don’t you care?” “You had bagged that one; if it’s ruined, don’t try to share mine ...”
And when suddenly, all ripen at one time and even our mangolo-maniacal household cannot get them down fast enough, it’s the freezer that becomes our best friend. Mangoes are peeled and sliced and packed into cartons and when there is nothing under the cupboards or atop them anymore, out they come to liven up drab desserts and extend summer joy.
That we are bulging out of our clothes by then is only a minor drawback for us. We think we will address that once the freezer is empty. But somehow, with all the hard work we put in through the summer, mangoes are perennials in our home!
Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.
