Dhruv and His Basket of Mango Reveries

The golden morning light stretched its fingers through the windows of a little house in the bustling city of Vadodara, Gujarat. Dhruv, a ten-year-old boy with sparkling eyes, was already awake, his heart dancing with excitement.

- Shatabdi Dass

Today was no ordinary day. Today, Papa would bring home a basket of Gir Kesar mangoes—the pride of Gujarat, famed across India, fragrant as a field of blooming jasmine, and sweeter than a grandmother’s lullaby.

“I’ll have aamras with puris! And mango shrikhand! And not to forget Ma’s special aam papad!” Dhruv declared, bouncing on his toes as he gulped down his breakfast.

“Only, if you chew your food properly,” Ma chuckled.

Dhruv nodded eagerly, grabbing his school bag and rushing out. His world had turned into a mango-flavored dreamland. As he walked to school, the breeze carried whispers of mango blossoms, the sun shone in hues of ripe mango, and every face seemed to shine like a freshly polished brass plate. Even the roadside dogs looked at him curiously as he hummed a song about mangoes.

At school, the first class was Maths. Dhruv tapped his pencil against his notebook as his teacher wrote on the blackboard.

“If 3 pens cost ₹15, how much would 12 pens cost?”

Dhruv grinned. This was his kind of problem! He scribbled quickly, his mind buzzing. “If Ma gave me ₹15 and I can buy 3 mangoes, then for 12 mangoes I would need four times more! That means I get the biggest mango share!” His hand quickly shot up in the air.

When the teacher called his name, Dhruv stood up proudly. “Twelve mangoes would cost ₹60, Ma’am. But more importantly, if I have them, my sister will be very jealous.”

The teacher shook her head, smiling. “Dhruv, I appreciate your enthusiasm. While your answer is correct, the question was about pens not mangoes!” The class erupted into laughter.