Why Mango Takes Me Down The Memory Lane, All The Way Back To My Childhood

Being an Indian, there's really no chance that at some point in your life you've not gone¡ªshall we say, 'bananas over mangoes'. This, during summer - a time rife with the intense heat and the blissful aroma of mangoes looping through the corners of possibly every household across the country.

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When it comes to expressing this 'pure platonic' love for this oh-so-luscious fruit, my family was no different from the millions who shared the same emotion. But my history with the fruit is a rather complicated one, this needs a detailed understanding¡ªgoing my roots and to the place where I grew up¡ªall of which play an important part in shaping my emotional memory with the fruit.

While I am a South-Indian, 21 years of my life were spent in Sikkim. But one of the things that my parents made sure my elder brother and I never missed out on, was of course, savouring mangoes the 'right way'. For the uninitiated, the fruit that comes into Sikkim is mostly from neighbouring states of Bihar and West Bengal (Siliguri). So like most Indians, I¡¯ve had the privilege of tasting a fairly huge sweep of mango varities - from the sweet Langda, the tangy Dusseri to the juicy Chausa.

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Another breed that is, hands down, my favourite, the Banganapalle (Safeda) from Andhra Pradesh. My winter vacations were spent mostly down South and I remember the one thing that we would never forget, was to pack a carton full of these beauties, to last for a while back in Sikkim.

Every year, as far as I can remember, eating the first batch of mangoes of the season, was and still remains an incomparable joy. Mango shopping, I remember was no less than a celebration in the house. As a kid there was nothing more delightful, that to see dad coming home with a bag full of sweet smelling Mangai (mango in Tamil) and promptly tossing in a couple into a utensil filled with water to cool it down (lest you end up with heat boils) all set to be sliced for that perfect after meal dessert!

Picking the perfect aam is a skill in itself. And for a reason, that I still don¡¯t understand, my dad more than my mum, somehow always had the knack to pick the perfect mango for consumption and it would invariably be sweet. The mango picking skill is still something I struggle with.

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With the arrival of Mangoes was also a time when probably every dish in the house would have a touch of the golden bliss. For a South Indian, there¡¯s nothing more glorious than seeing that bottle of Avakkai taking it¡¯s time to soak all the flavours of the spices to make that perfect pickle, to go with a sublime plate of curd rice or Thayir Sadam or simply mixing the pickle with hot rice, topped with desi ghee *drool*.

Avakkai is a mixture of ava (mustard) with kaya (raw mango) pickle jars are sealed just as the summer arrives with the fresh mangoes. The making of this pickle is, in fact, treated as a ceremony, so much so, some households look at the date or tithi, in a religious calendar, (Something that you¡¯ll see in every south-Indian house) a guide to the ¡®good time¡¯ of the day.

Tamil Calendar

Remember the video of our current Finance Minister, Nirmala Sitharaman, sitting on the floor and preparing 'Avakaya' pickle? I couldn¡¯t think of a better way to describe the scene at a South Indian house.

Apart from pickles, were odd concoctions you must have never heard of. Mango Sambar and mangoes with curd rice, the latter which I must say is the best thing in the world.

This relationship with mangoes somehow took a 180 degree turn the moment I left home for college. Buying the fruit from heaven, apart from suddenly turning into a luxury (because you are practically broke, while living alone) also somehow lost that ¡®happiness quotient'. It was then that I realised just how great a role this one single fruit played in family bonding and weaving some beautiful memories.

But thankfully, those tough days passed by, and now I am married into a Punjabi family that shares the same passionate love for the fruit as my family did. The summer dinner table conversation with my-laws are always about the type of Mangoes and one vying with the other about which one is the best kind.

There¡¯s really no better way of bonding or breaking the ice while discussing mango varieties, with tales of how once our elders stole mangoes from orchards while seeing every part of the golden fruit sliced to perfection and eaten to keep a happy memory going on forever.