The mango reigns supreme
The 5,000-year-old, universally liked mangifera indica or mango — India’s national fruit — is so popular among Urdu poets that a mushaira was held annually in Delhi, aptly called Aam aur Kalam, where only mango-related verses were recited.
Mirza Ghalib described mangoes as ‘sealed jars of paradisal honey’ in his poem Dar sift–e–ambah. He found them irresistible: ‘Aam meethey hon aur bahut hon.’ And for Persian poet Amir Khusrau mangoes were ‘Naghza tarin mewa Hindustan’, the fairest fruit of India. Its sweetness also permeated music, inspiring Raga Amrapanchama. Buddha rested under a sacred mango tree. Emperors rewarded their khansamas for coming up with delicacies like aam ka meetha pulau, aam ka launj etc.
Undeniably, we don’t need gourmets to tell us that the ultimate taste of a mango lies in its guthli — the stone, the very heart of the fruit, that’s hidden under a thick layer of flesh. How unashamedly we dig our teeth into it to devour, licking it clean, till only its bare oval stone with a fringe of whiskers are exposed, not minding our chins dripping with its nectar-like juice!
Once a family, reputed for hospitality, invited us for lunch. They had dumped heaps of mangoes in iced water. Lunch over, our hostess served sliced, chilled mangoes. But when a guest would pick up a guthli, he would be gently told, ‘Just leave it. Relish a proper piece of mango. Only our servants eat guthlis.’ Obviously, embarrassed guests wouldn’t even dream of picking them up.
On our way back, I suddenly remembered that I had left my umbrella behind. I returned to fetch it. There, I was taken aback to find a completely changed scenario. The men had changed into starched-white pyjamas; some had removed their turbans and loosened their ties, keeping them among the cutlery on the table. And the host’s joint family, from great-grandparents down to toddlers, was busy gorging on those delicious piles of guthlis, so mercilessly not offered to us!
Ridiculously, Europeans dub mango as a ‘bathroom fruit’, preferring to have it leaning over a sink, as its juicy pulp smears one’s face, soiling clothes too. Some even advise that it should be relished in a bathtub! Trust Americans to invent a novel spoon which holds its stone while the mango is cut, lessening its juice’s flow. Mango juice is appreciatively gulped down in Indian diplomatic parties abroad. Indeed, the mango reigns supreme.
