The hot summer begins with the mouth watering hopes of a good mango season for the most of us. I do not eat mangoes, although they start cropping up at my place quiet early at astronomical rates. I eat them a bit late in the season for some reason which will be clear as you folks read this blog.
Mangoes are a part and parcel of our foodie culture. The wooden boxes with straw and ripening mangoes are displayed proudly in each and every household as a kind of status symbol. A sweet and mildly sour fragrance greets us when we enter our homes in mango season. The kids like them very much and devour them like no tomorrow. They also like playing with the straw. Each and every meal has 'aamras' as an accompanying dessert. The diabetics forget their illness and secretly gorge on mangoes. I see a spurt in their sugar readings during this season and they just smile at me expecting me to understand the seasonal effect on their diabetes.
Asha is a very dear patient of mine. She is an aged lady with Diabetes and Heart ailments. She has to be recurrently admitted in the hospital in view of complications. Although our profession thrives on other peoples' miseries, I decided to stop charging her in view of her poor financial status. She had a teen aged son who was a spastic and had to struggle to make her ends meet. A meagre pension of her deceased husband used to be her only life line. She sometimes even used to skip meals which she said helped her sugars from rising. I always was moved by her plight.
During the mango season, she was in a better mood as she used to fetch mangoes from her native town and sort them out in boxes and sell them door to door. At least, the mangoes offered some financial respite to her. The first box of choicest juicy plump mangoes would be packed by her and delivered to me. Its pretty late for the season, yet I tell her that I have been waiting for the mangoes eagerly. She smiles up with tears in her eyes. A few kind words never hurt. She implores me to call her if I need some more mangoes but I never call her as I do not want her to incur a loss as she will never charge me.
This box of mangoes is a symbol of her gratitude towards me. It signifies labour as she huffs and puffs while climbing the floor to deliver her box. Normally, I distribute the boxes which I get, to all my staff of ward boys and ayah bais who lovingly accept them.
This box goes straight home. My family relishes them. Even if they are sour, they taste better than the sweetest mangoes of the entire season.
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