Over the terrace, I mentioned in my last post, was a large mango tree. During summer, the mangoes were hanging low enough, from the part of tree spilling into the terrace.
They are low enough for kids to pluck them without much struggle. Yet, we kids were always reminded to stay away from the tree, for there might be tiny insects and I was so allergic to them.
Yet, the allure of those tasty raw mango are far more inviting than the constant reminders. So we decided to pluck it. And we did it.
No, there wasn’t any insect bite or any allergic reactions or no cause to question our safety.
But we, me and my cousin, didn’t dare to go into the house shouting our victory. Though we were safe, we were not sure that about the scolding we might receive. It was a small mango and we thought of finishing it in the terrace itself and throw away the seed.
When we were almost half through, grandpa came onto terrace in search of us. We were caught green-handed, I mean with mango in our hands and I sort of panicked for a moment.
As he was about to question about it, I volunteered that the mango fell by itself, as some squirrel or parrot might have nibbled and dropped them.
Though we were spared from any scolding, we were to give away that mango! For it might not be properly cleaned. Sigh! Our heart was already content from half of it and we parted with it. But soon afterwards, it was nicely cleaned up and cut into small bite sized pieces and given back to us!