Mangoes – The Love and Lesson

Summers are already here and almost every state has welcomed the mangoes. It has innumerable varieties and each variety has its own uniqueness – big or small sized, pulpy or juicy texture, more or less fibrous. They look like from typical mango picture we drew in our drawing workbooks in school to what we had never visualized. Though the varieties differ a lot when we move from north to south yet almost every state grows this amazingly tasty fruit. Being a north Indian the common varieties I indulged were Dushehri, Safeda, Langda, Chausa and Totapuri. Safeda - juicy and rich in fiber - has been my all-time favorite. Though I am not a mango fan now but my childhood was no different than any other mango loving kid.  Unlike today, seasonal fruits were enjoyed thoroughly due to their availability mainly in that particular season. I remember my father bringing seasonal fresh fruits – mangoes, blue berries, melons, grapes, and guavas - daily while returning from work. And my mother had this practice to serve them with food in different forms. Those were the days when mothers used to take care of all the household tasks and there was no separate menu for kids. So for kids mangoes were the best substitute for spicy curries. I and my sister (who is two years elder to me) used to eat rotis with mango pulp or juice happily. I am still not sure whether it was our love for mangoes or sibling rivalry, which made us not to settle with fewer mangoes than what the other person ate. Despite of abundance of mangoes at home we both secretly made sure to win the unannounced mango eating competition. At times the height of rivalry made us count the numbers of mangoes we ate in previous seasons as well. A big mango would be replaced with two small mangoes of same or other variety to justify the numbers (please notice the fairness of the process). However we never focused on what and how many mangoes our parents were getting. My mother used to cut the mangoes into 3 pieces – two pulpy pieces and third piece with big seed covered with the little pulp. Eating the seedy piece was kind of putting more effort with less gain. So to satiate ourselves we always compete to grab the pulpy pieces. Usually the seedy pieces used to go to mother. In order to avoid our row mother started giving us all the pulpy pieces. Slowly we made it a practice and mother also happily accepted it (for any mother her peace of mind is the most important thing, isn’t it?).  During my grown up days I was not that mango lover. Things changed. I and sister both went to hostels, our likes-dislikes changed, but to welcome mangoes especially when we all were together didn’t stop. I wasn’t that competitive mango eater anymore. Slowly I started to observe that it was the mother who generally ate the seedy pieces. For reparation I started to object this ill-practice but by that time mother had completely accepted and adapted it. Whenever I and mother ate together, at the end of the food, she would pick the seedy pieces even if I insisted her to take the pulpy one.

The incident I am sharing with you belongs to my newly motherhood days when I was staying at my mother’s home. I was just one month old mommy that time. One evening I was having my supper expeditiously.  Unsurprisingly, I was early than others for two reasons – 1) My daughter was asleep 2) I was a hungry monster those days. Though I had no interest in enjoying the food and I was trying to indulge everything before my daughter woke up yet my mother insisted me to have some mangoes at the end. Nicely cut mangoes were on the dinner table. That day I had all the seedy pieces and left the table. Mother arrived, after finishing her work in kitchen, and saw the dining table. In little uncomfortable tone she asked me ‘Why did you eat all the seedy pieces?’ The glimpse of confusion and discomfort could be clearly seen on her face. I calmly replied her, ‘Mom! Since I am also a mother now, I am learning to happily eat the seedy pieces’. She was little astonished with my answer. For few seconds she didn’t say anything – just looking at my face –then slowly smiled. I could see the hidden pain and sadness in her smile which was not because she ate seedy mangoes for years but because her child was going to enter in the same phase of life –the motherhood, which would be full of sacrifices.

A mother is always a mother and her love remains same irrespective of her child’s age.