I have been enjoying gazing at the growing mangoes on the mango tree in our college campus since the past few weeks. The green raw mangoes solely hanging from the tensioned branches of the trees look extremely tempting. For a long time I wondered whether it looks better on the tree, or if it would be nicer to touch, feel and smell it. A lot of koyals keep on singing these days and none of the crows have disturbed any of the fruits on the tree. Finally, Nandu broke his barriers of temptation and hit the closest hanging fruit from our second floor staff room balcony.
The raw green fruit dropped down on the fabric canopy, rolled onto it and fell in the bushes below. Nandu ran down like gushing water to pick it up. He came back with a big green orb. I wondered how big it was as compared to what I assumed it to be from a distance. We placed it on the table and let it roll. Both Nandu and I kept looking at it - finally I grabbed it and felt it, its smoothness, its curves, its texture, its skin...
We thought of showing it to all - as if it was a wonder of the world. We discussed its shape and compaed it to the ones we draw in our drawing books - we argued if it resembled the haapus (alphonso) - and both agreed that it was not that perfect. Still, we were not able to comprehend its beauty and our wonder - taking the king of fruits - and the first one of the season in hand. So I suggested we display it for some time. Nandu was extremely eager and enthusiastic about it. He quickly arranged for a glass and filled it with water. I felt there was something missing in it: may be more colour. He then got some leaves and flowers from here and there and we almost made it into a momento...
Then we all enjoyed staring at it, praising the fruit and preserving it for some time. But finally, Nandu couldnot resist his gustatory urge and he cut it into slices, soon distributing it to everyone around. It was as if beauty (in all forms) has to be destroyed and finally digested.
We all ate a slice of it.
But memories of mangoes (especially the ones you pluck from the trees on your own) are nostalgic and mango trees inevitably take you to your childhood, if you ever flirted with the trees when you were young.
The raw green fruit dropped down on the fabric canopy, rolled onto it and fell in the bushes below. Nandu ran down like gushing water to pick it up. He came back with a big green orb. I wondered how big it was as compared to what I assumed it to be from a distance. We placed it on the table and let it roll. Both Nandu and I kept looking at it - finally I grabbed it and felt it, its smoothness, its curves, its texture, its skin...
We thought of showing it to all - as if it was a wonder of the world. We discussed its shape and compaed it to the ones we draw in our drawing books - we argued if it resembled the haapus (alphonso) - and both agreed that it was not that perfect. Still, we were not able to comprehend its beauty and our wonder - taking the king of fruits - and the first one of the season in hand. So I suggested we display it for some time. Nandu was extremely eager and enthusiastic about it. He quickly arranged for a glass and filled it with water. I felt there was something missing in it: may be more colour. He then got some leaves and flowers from here and there and we almost made it into a momento...
Then we all enjoyed staring at it, praising the fruit and preserving it for some time. But finally, Nandu couldnot resist his gustatory urge and he cut it into slices, soon distributing it to everyone around. It was as if beauty (in all forms) has to be destroyed and finally digested.
We all ate a slice of it.
But memories of mangoes (especially the ones you pluck from the trees on your own) are nostalgic and mango trees inevitably take you to your childhood, if you ever flirted with the trees when you were young.
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