Man go, enjoy the mangoes!

Man go, enjoy the mangoes!

I am not sure if it is safe to announce here but I am one of those cribbers who can ceaselessly complain about the hot, stifling days of Indian summers and not feel guilty or ashamed about the rant. (If there is rebirth I pray that I am reborn in a place with cold climate.) So when a friend from Bangalore rang up yesterday and sang some praise about the weather there, I went through my routine of reciting the Celsius and humidity percentage here. Happy living in a comfortable 26C, she in turn advised that I should be glad I can enjoy all the mangoes in Lucknow because as she grumbled they are not getting good mangoes there this year.

Now trading good weather for mangoes is not a profitable bargain in my book, but I have to admit the fruit does have distinct qualities. It is said that Mughal emperors had their minions store mangoes in jars of honey to preserve them for eating during non-mango season. Remember there were no refrigerators in those times. Why, according to world history, some of the nations had not even been ‘discovered’!

 Farah Khan's moment of weakness

There must be mango-lovers among you who wait for the year’s crop to land in the market and hey presto, there you are- holding each fruit lovingly, going all touchy-feely with them and savouring their aroma. (Last year filmmaker Farah Khan was trolled for removing her mask to smell the mangoes.)

Some Hindi and Urdu poets have indeed written about them and I shall not be surprised if somebody full of nationalist spirit actually comes up with a thesis on bharatiya sanskriti mein aam ka mahatva (The importance of mangoes in Indian culture).

Indian mangoes are fragrant, sweet, luscious and of nearly 1000 varieties. They start appearing in the market sometime in April and with every passing week, it is time for some other variety to take over. (I am talking of the fresh ones which come in season and not unripe ones ripened with chemicals in cold storage because of their short shelf life.) Not just that, every state and region of India swears by the variety available there, yet I for one, cannot decide which one is the best from among Dussehri, Langda, Imam Pasand, Maldah, Bangampalli, Alphonso, Kesar, Chausa, Safeda besides several more that I have tasted.

Mangoes also take you back to childhood when pelting sticks and stones at mango trees to bring down the fruit was one of the important activities during summer afternoons when the adults were out at work or enjoying their siesta. The unlucky ones got caught and getting thrashing was not unheard of.

During school holidays one of the frequent rituals was to bring peti (box) of mangoes and soak them in a bucketful of water. The family, with children especially dressed in old clothes because mango juice leaves stains (which children of true mettle would not drop some on their clothes), gathered around and then began the mango party. This was generally reserved for the variety where you directly suck the juice from the fruit and do not eat it sliced in thin slivers a la Michelin star restaurants.

My mother used to sing a song, two of the lines were

 kyon na ped ek rotiyon ka hum laga lein,

 Roti todein, aam todein, roti- aam kha lein!

(Why don’t we plant a tree of rotis (Indian bread made on griddle)? We pluck a roti and a mango and eat roti with mango.)

Mangoes are said to be heat-generating so after the hour long blissful activity, everyone was given a glass of kachchi lassi (half milk, half water with little sugar) to cool down the stomach.

With time, nafees log (sophisticated people) and the rich started throwing mango parties where they would have various varieties brought in and treat or impress friends with their love for the fruit. Now mango fairs are organized by the government and the growers at some places.

Does any other fruit get so much importance and love?  Believe me pumpkin pies, apple desserts or strawberry sorbet cannot woo over lovers of aamras, mangolassi/shake/kulfi/ice cream.

Not only that, unripe mangoes have their own spot in the list of desirables. School children are often heard clicking their tongues while surreptitiously enjoying the forbidden sour unripe mangoes with salt and red chillies or aam papad (spiced mango juice dried in sheets) after the school closes.

Earlier, anyone whose mango achar (pickle), chutney, or jam looked the same for a long time without the use of any preservative barring salt and oil, was quite in demand for making it for friends and neighbours. The job was a matter of pride and labour of love. Every household and region had its own recipe and variety to brag about.

 

The whole ritual of making 18-20 kilos of various varieties of pickle including superstitions around it, spice preparations, arguments over the variety of mangoes, quality of oil, the warnings to not touch it, the race to save the martbaan (jar) from rain and of course packing empty jam bottles with achar for friends and families to give to them, was an important summer occupation for women in families.Sadly, when the airlines banned carrying of liquids more than 100 ml per bottle in cabin baggage, the biggest victim perhaps was the customary achar bottle which was generally the parting gift you picked up before you left anyone’s house.

Seriously, what is there to complain about the simple achar-paratha (pickle with Indian pan fried bread) or dal-chawal and aam ka achar (dal-rice and mango pickle)? In fact, achar paratha has been a staple for most school kids’ tiffin boxes.

The growing cost of mangoes and the size of the families now make it imperative that smaller quantities of fruit be purchased at a time. For the sake of convenience people now buy readymade pickles which generally have chemical preservatives.

Changing needs, habits and customs have also made an impact on lifestyles. How many of you like the thought of ditching the air-conditioner at night and sleeping under the stars on the roof? Yes, wetting the floor to cool it and some anti-mosquito drill is necessary before that, but very few of us own roofs now, we all have ceilings. Maybe the proverb should be changed to having a ceiling and not a roof above one’s head.

There are no grounds where children can play in the slightly cooler evenings and in spite of the lakhs of motivational quotes doing the rounds on Whatsapp daily, we do not have the patience and tolerance to let others’ children play on the streets or lawns and break flower pots and window-panes.

Parents look for summer camps for their children because the custom of sending them to other’s houses for gudiya ki shaadi (doll’s wedding), carom board, drawing, craft-making are passé. 

Maybe some of the changes are for the better, but we are getting lonelier and sadder. The optimist would remind us that there is no point feeling sad because change is a part of life and some of the new things are more comfortable.

So, move your bum out of the comfy spot, bear the heat a little and go buy whatever variety of mango is freshly available around you and enjoy this ‘king of fruit’ when it is available fresh.

                                                                                            -Anupama S Mani