Sunday, 12 April 2015

The last fruit


I love mangoes. I eagerly wait for the arrival of the mango season. First come the green raw mangoes. Though I don't like them much I love seeing them. For they announce that the juicy, sweet mangoes which I like will arrive soon. From the moment of the first arrival of the ripe mangoes into the market upto their disappearance as a result of the monsoon rains, I buy mangoes regularly. They say that you should not eat mangoes once it rains. But still my love for the mangoes compels me to store them (as many as possible) into the fridge and relish them for a few days even after they have vanished from the markets.


Even after eating hundreds of mangoes my love for the king of the fruits doesnot seem to end. I simply love eating them. I remember that June so vividly. My mangoes had disappeared from the market and were on the verge of disappearance from my refridgerator too. Only one mango was left in the refridgerator. I was unhappy that my last fruit will get over soon and I will have to wait for the next season for my beloved fruit to arrive.

Rhea entered my house. She was my neighbour's cute four years old daughter. Curious as always she went on to raid my house. Whenever she came to my house her parents would instruct her not to touch anything. Needless to say that it fell on her deaf ears. Considering her age even I was fine with her exploring my house provided she did not touch the knives, scissors and the medicines.

So that day her area of operation was my kitchen. She ran towards the kitchen. She opened my fridge and said “Even we have a fridge. But it is red in colour.”

Mango,” she exclaimed with joy in her voice which was palpable. Besides mango there were guavas, strawberries and few chocolates too in the fridge. I just wished that she chose one of those. I simply told her that my fridge was stocked with guavas, strawberries and chocolates as well. But she did not even see them.

I want mango” she said. I was in a dilemma. She was a child. I could have easily handed over a chocolate and she would have forgotten about the mango in the next few minutes. As adults we manipulate our children many a times, don't we? I wanted to eat the last fruit of the season. I could have easily bartered it for many other delicacies which were instored in the fridge.

At that time my eyes fell on her innocent face. Her round face was beaming with excitement. When she will grow up she lose all of it and become a civilized citizen  adept in the art of hiding her emotions and of course would never open the fridge in her neighbour's house. That day I saw God in her. What is more important than being truthful to your emotions? As adults why do we teach our children to be treacherous under the garb of being diplomatic? We all are hypocrats!


I washed the mango and handed over the same to her. It was too big for her tiny palms. But still she held it tightly and began to squeeze the juicy pulp into her mouth. The yellow juice smeared her face and and her frock. It had smeared my heart too, with honesty, innocence and the joy of giving. 

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