It seems it will rain today, said my daughter while leaving for work.
Don’t even speak of rain, I remarked having overheard her.
Why? She asked.
Yes it was cloudy and there was likelihood of a shower or more. But I prayed in my heart: God don’t do it.
If it did, my entire mango crop, like other brother farmers will be destroyed. Their year-long efforts would go waste and they incur huge losses.
I’ve started thinking like a farmer. For a city dweller the rain brings in a respite from the sweltering heat nevertheless followed with increase in humidity and sweaty days.
The appearance of the King is a joyous occasion. I mean the King of Fruits, the Mango. Though it may be called Aam in Hindi which means ordinary it’s in fact very khaas (special). If I had my way I would call it the sunshine fruit, thanks to its contents. It’s over a month since mangoes appeared on four of my plants. When I brought the images home, clicked with my phone, members of my family were delighted. It’s a nice feeling seeing your plants fruits. Since then with every visit the first thing I do is check the fruit’s length. Like the mother feels the growth of the foetus. As the fruits grow in size, the branches yield giving into its burden: This what I find remarkable.
The mangoes are around four inches long though in the pictures they look much bigger. Which prompted wifey to say: You should have got couple of them for jam. How images can fool?
It would be another month a half before they can plucked and brought home. It has been four years since I planted them—all, a year-old saplings, on a July morning. This year July It’s the turn of the Banganpalli duo who were waiting to be planted.
I rarely write my posts so early in the day but here I’m today because I send this plea: Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase no showers and hope its heard.