One sees several messages in SFV’s electronic groups: Mango seller arriving soon in Gate 4; tender mango chap now in Gate 5 till 11 am; freshly plucked Sindoori and Badami mangoes from our farm for sale...
Even in lift one often hears, “yesterday I bought some Imam Pasand and Mallika from the Gate 4 guy - simply delicious”, or, “I bought Appemidi mangoes from Gate 5 for vadu mangai - the best...”
As a child, I would watch eagerly with my siblings and others in the family as Patti cut the ripe mangoes and distributed equally to all. “You want one of the side portions or the seed portions? She would give us the option. Whatever I chose, I seldom felt happy as I watched others enjoy their selections. In Bangalore we keep trying Imam Pasand, Alphonso, Banganapalli, Badami, Sindoori, Mallika, Malgoa, by turn. As of now, we have called it a day for this season. Moderation is the name of the game, we remind ourselves but do just the opposite.
My wife got an intercom call from her sister Shanthy, in Cedar: “Akka, this year I have made four types of mango pickles: Avakkai, Vadu mangai, Avakkai with ginger and garlic, and Kanni mangai (non-spicy, more in Kerala). I will send you some. “Don’t do that. I am coming to you with small sample-bottles. Will take just two servings each,” hastened the Lady of the house.
For my friend in previous apartment, Radhakrishnan Mama, mango-pickle is an annual ritual. Come April or May, he would head to Malleswaram vegetable market with his ancestral mango-pickle cutter, a bucketful of water with lid, two hand towels (one for cleaning and the other for drying). Upon his return, Mami mixes the cut mangoes with the ingredients she had already prepared; treats it and transfers it to the ‘bharani’. When fully marinated, we get a call for the tasting ceremony. Simply marvelous - unfailingly.
In our village house we had five different varieties of mango trees. Krishnan Kutty (KK), the man Friday to villagers, would climb the tall trees and pluck mangoes. Patti (grandma) would give him a sumptuous meal, four or five sample mangoes from each tree and an eight-anna coin. When Patti is not around, I would add to KK’s leaf a ladle or two of sambar, curry, or thick buttermilk and watch him eat with relish.
The other person who got equally busy in the season was Paru Mami, wife of a elementary school teacher with five daughters and one son, barely subsisting. Most houses sought Mami’s services to prepare pickle. Every homemaker relied on Mami’s hand to add the final heap of salt or spice for two reasons. First, she moderated the quantities of spices depending on the blood pressure level, or ulcer or other problems plaguing members of the house. Second, the ladies believed that under any other hand the pickle would sour and develop fungus sooner than later. At the end they would give Mami a small bottle of the pickle, haldi-kum kum, a blouse piece and cash.
Decades later I visited one of Mami’s daughters in Kozikode while on a duty travel. She was doing lucrative business in pickles as a cottage industry. After offering me coffee and snacks, she expressed keenness to buy our vacant village- house and wanted me to put in a word with my uncles. As I prepared to take leave, she went inside and returned with a shopping bag full of assorted pickles. I had a tough time convincing her that it would be a problem for me to carry it either as a check-in, or cabin baggage.
“The wheel of time,” I wondered. The family that had endured hardship in the village was keen to own a house to perpetuate memory, while we, who had nothing but pleasant times, were trying to sever all connections.
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3 comments:
Sundaram,Sir.I remember you asking whether we had finished the mangoes we bought the other day.The spirit is still willing( to eat more and more mangoes in season) but the flesh is weak! They are stored everywhere in the house
On a lighter note no wonder the monkeys don't want to leave SFV they get variety of mangoes
Your last line is food for thought. However, hope you are still enjoying mangoes.
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