Monday, 13 June 2011

Mums, Mangoes and Memories...

For as long as I can remember the arrival of mangoes marks the start of summer in our house - the imminent onset of long lazy evenings spent with the balcony thrown open, mum and I gorging on the sweet honey orange colour treasures with exuberant delight. Not any old mangoes I’ll have you know. Not those hard green skinned, rubber tasting variety. Oooh no, we're talking king of mangoes here, the Alphonso which comes primarily from Western India and Pakistan. It's almost sickly sweet, sweeter than sweet (I have been known to eat sugar cubes) and we sit feasting on them straight off their centre stone with the resplendent juice running down our fingers - arguably one of the deepest pleasures known to mankind. Trust me. And so the first box of mangoes has finally arrived (albeit at an extortionate £7 per box of 6, but a joy worth every penny), and it looks, literally, like a box full of sunshine. I watch mum glow with nostalgia as she recounts summers in India spent secretly gorging on 'ras keri' with her siblings whilst adults siesta-ed away oblivious - stolen moments that have the power to bring a smile to her face even today. It’s almost like a movie flashback...magical to share moments of mum's childhood. And what more are we than diverse, walking & talking histories? Our memories are as important to our existence as is our DNA. And so summer looks set to be sensational and I'm hoping to get to India some time soon, hopefully before the mango season is out ;)


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