B'luru savours the final flavours of mango season

Come July and we mourn the mangoes.

- Shoba Narayan

They are fading across India and also here in Bangalore. The mango stalls that pop up like a golden streak on Jayamahal Road are slowly winding down and packing up. Delhi meanwhile, is smartly hosting The International Mango Festival just about now, an annual event since 1987, that has claimed this King of Fruits in all its glory. India, after all, is the world’s largest producer of mangoes, contributing toa whopping 40 percent of global production. We also are the world’s largest exporter, sending over a million tonnes to the US, UK, UAE and everywhere else. But for Indians, the mango is more than a fruit. It is a reason to return home. Itis a collective memory; a personal narrative anda common one. Here for example, is my fanciful and imaginary primer on how to eat a mango, written from the point of view of a seven-year-old boy. Let's call him Kesar. [hope this resonates with each of you.

“Hello, lam Kesar, age 7, from a family of mango growers. And here are my thoughts about mangoes. To eat a mango, you pull its cheeks, like old aunties do, before asking, at weddings, “Do you know who lam?” when all they are to you, is plump, like an Alphonso mango. But mostly, you don’t understand why your parents cover your eyes and ears at the movies during the parts when the hero whispers about the shape of a lover's body part to be like ripe Daseri mangoes.