One day, while coming back from work, I, like other usual days, started hunting for an autorickshaw which would transport me to the nearest metro station. The satiated autorickshaws raced against each other. I got a seat in none of them. A cold breeze came by and momentarily dried my perspiring face. I looked up. The tall trees were swaying their heads. I frowned. Is it a storm rising? Just then, an autoricksaw driver peeped out from his vehicle, and said,"Didi, boshun taratari, jhor uthche.(A storm's rising, please be seated quickly)" The driver was in a hurry to reach his destination. As he sped on, he exclaimed that mangoes would be falling due to this storm. He sounded hopeful about reaching his home as fast as he can just in case some mangoes are still there strewn on the ground near his house, waiting to be picked up by him!
The enthusiasm of this man took me back to my long lost days.
The enthusiasm of this man took me back to my long lost days.
In Durgapur, we stayed in company quarters. An interesting feature of the ground floor quarters was the open space around the boundary limits and the buildings. All the residents who stayed in the ground floor quarters, planted different varieties of plants all around the year. My paternal grandfather planted three mango trees in the open space around our quarter. All these mango trees bore a plenty of fruits and during the Kalbaishakhi Storms, the mango rescue team of our house (my mother, my brother and I) would stand in guard near the mango trees with sacks and bags. Our motto was to stop the street urchins from getting nearer to our mango trees. When the mangoes started falling down, we would run around to collect them while my father would enjoy the whole scene from the windows. After braving through the rains, when we got back inside, our faces beamed to estimate the total collection of the mangoes. It was always close to four or five Kgs. The very next day, my mother would send us out in the neighbourhood to distribute the mangoes to every household.
The most important ritual which followed after the mango collection was preparing and devouring "Aam makha" (A type of raw mango savoury seasoned with salt and red chilli powder). One of my neighbourhood sisters was a specialist in preparing "aam makha". Many a summer afternoons were spent in preparing the coveted dish and eating right after. As I write about it after so many years, I can still feel the taste and start to drool. Oh my Childhood! I miss you so dearly......
