Mango people on roaming

Every summer in Santiniketan when the heat gets unbearable, residents remind themselves that it is the intensity of the heat that ensures the ripening of mangoes and jackfruits. So looking up at trees makes us wonder if all the sweating will be worth it.

Since many houses - whether with small gardens or large - have at least a couple of fruit trees, conversations at the onset of summer are dominated by whether or not they have flowered. Then there are worries if the nor'westers will make the flowers fall off, or whether the first rains will make stems stronger. Was there a good yield last year? What do we expect this year? Have hailstorms caused much damage? Well, then, we will just have to make pickles with the bruised mangoes.
 

Normal preoccupations every year. But this year, thanks to the meagre crop last year, our mango trees were promising more fruits than ever. In the midst of all these discussions, we announced our annual holiday. Coincidentally, our dates clashed with the ripening season of mangoes. When our gardener heard about our trip, he went into a deep sulk and suggested that we contracted to sell the fruits off before we left. Although we did part with our bels and jamuns, we usually reserved mangoes for family and friends. But this year, we had a bumper crop, and we were not going to be around!

I explained to him how it was not necessary to deny others, just because we were not going to be around. I decided the problem would easily be solved if I left with him a list of names (and their phones numbers) of those who we normally shared mangoes with. This included colleagues, family and friends and all other acquaintances who normally hail me in the streets and ask after mangoes at the beginning of the season. My gardener was happy with the length of the list. He was convinced that our mangoes, which he had willed to prosper through the rain and storm, will now be appreciated.

Relieved that I had been able to find eaters of mangoes in large number, I began preparations for my holiday. We were going to spend a month in England, and our well-wishers had warned us about the weather. The next few days went in ensuring that my spartan Santiniketan wardrobe was spruced up to brave the English weather.

As we left for the airport with our stuffed suitcases and SIM cards activated for international roaming, I kind of left my mango worries behind. Little did I realise that I would have been better off having heeded my gardener's advice of selling off the mangoes.

After about a week into our holiday, I started receiving calls from my colleagues at the shop I run and the factory. I took the calls thinking there might be some decisions wanting my intervention. But they were actually calling to thank me for the mangoes. They accepted that though they were asked to call only in emergencies, they couldn't stop themselves from letting me know that the mangoes were really sweet. Weavers who work with me also called in. I spoke to them because I realised the fact that even incoming calls were being charged on international roaming, would be too much to explain to those who had no idea about England.

If the falling pound-rupee exchange rate throughout our trip didn't break my back, the handsome phone bill (four times my normal monthly bill) on my return did feel a bit like the last straw.