Sweeter than honey drops

I hate mangoes. You may be surprised, for no one actually can ‘hate’ mangoes. But listen to my story.

It was a hot summer a couple of years ago. A Mr. Pearse landed in our village and bought a large tract of land. He then brought in some mango saplings. The next day he brought ‘specialists’ to plant them. The saplings had to be planted in a scientific manner, he said, and not everyone could do it. From then on, the village heard nothing other than Mr. Pearse’s fabled mangoes. He spoke of the mangoes to anyone and everyone who would listen to him. The village was fed up with listening to his Honey Drops Mangoes.

Last year, the fabled luscious fruit appeared on his trees. The whole village waited with bated breath to catch a glimpse of the legendary Honey Drops.

We, that is, the five of us — Karim, Aparna, Neil, Santhosh and I, kept a close watch on the orchard. The fence was not high, nor did Mr. Pearse have guard dogs or geese (they are as good as dogs, they say), nor was the fence electrified.

Then, one morning, Karim came running up to tell us that those wonderful mangoes were beginning to turn yellow and if we wanted some we would need to get them NOW.

We were off like a shot. When we reached the orchard we found that all was quiet. There was no sign of any guard or Mr. Pearse. Quickly, we were over the fence and racing to the trees. The mangoes hung low, all perfectly shaped, without a blemish on them, a tempting pale yellow. Irresistible! We did not even have to jump to pluck the fruit. There they hung, tantalisingly low.

Caught!

At almost the same time all of us reached out to pluck the fruit, we felt a current pass through our hands down to our legs. Our hair stood on edge. We didn’t care. We now had the fruit. But when we tried to pluck it, we found we were stuck to it. We pulled and pushed, we tried to break the branch. We tried everything we could. But there was no escape. We were well and truly stuck!

We knew we had to wait for Mr. Pearse. No wonder the fence was low, and there were no guards or dogs or any security. Mr. Pearse came smiling a happy smile.

“Good! Good!” he said as he drew closer. Then he counted us “One, two, three…”

“Yes, there are five of us. Can you please release us? We have been stuck for a long time,” I said.

“Oh! I know that,” he said.

“Then why didn’t you come earlier?” asked Aparna.

“You have to be taught a lesson. You must never steal.”

“Okay, we are sorry and we have learnt our lesson,” said Karim.

“Oh! But this is not the punishment. You have to come up to the house for that.”

“Are you going to beat us,” asked Karim, a little scared now.

“Hmmm….no. I don’t believe in beating.”

Then he took a magician’s wand. He mumbled something and gently tapped us on our hands. We were released from the dreadful mango. Our hands hurt from having had to hold them up for so long. Our legs protested too. Never had we stood still for such a long time.

“Come on, come on,” said Mr Pearse as he ushered us along. We went reluctantly, on wobbly legs, not knowing what awaited us.

At his house he wrote in a big book. He asked me to read it out aloud to the others.

“We hereby confess,” I read, “that we have been caught stealing Honey Drops Mangoes from Mr. Pearse’s farm. As punishment for this heinous crime,we will work at harvesting and packing the said Honey Drop Mangoes for no wages…”

At this moment I was so shocked I stopped and felt the book slipping from my hand. I felt dizzy and sick. Aparna who stood next to me caught me before I fell. Karim took the book and began to read the rest of the confession.

Mr. Pearse smiled. “Now all of you write you name under it and sign it. And put today’s date at the end of it. From tomorrow I want the five of you to report at my farm every morning at 8 a.m. You will work here till 6 p.m.”

And so, the whole of that summer, we harvested mangoes. We were not allowed to eat even one. In fact we did not even get to taste it. When all the fruits had been harvested, we had to wrap them up in fine muslin cloth, each one individually wrapped. Then we had to put them into the crates. We had to lay them gently on a bed of some soft material. Only 10 mangoes to a box. Then the vans arrived and we had to load the boxes into the van. Just when our holidays were coming to an end, the last of the mangoes were packed and sent off.

We have never touched a mango since! Can you blame us?

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