Sweet Notes of Summer

I love summers for my favourite jasmine and mangoes. The duo brings to mind, childhood summers of school exams and their sweet successor, the vacation.

     The heavenly fragrance of the jasmine, also called mogra or mallepuvvu are to be plucked in the evening, the right buds that would half open while you made a flower- garland or gajra.  Our neighbour and close family friend had taught me how to make gajras without a needle, securing the flowers snugly with little loops of a string of thread, buds tied together, neither too close to each other nor too far apart, giving the perfect look when you adorned your hair with it. Plaited hair adorned with jasmine flowers strung together with the delicate orange flowers called kankambaram or aboli and the sweet, musky, tiny leaved marvam sprigs strung together in a visually appealing tricolour was once a common sight.

     We no longer wear flowers in our hair except on occasions like a close relative's wedding or on a festival to go with a  traditional attire. But the very scent of the jasmine is sure to transport me to childhood lane. So these sweet flowers will always be high on the scale of my nostalgia - triggers.

      And yes, the delicious mango rules summers! Rarely does one come across someone who doesn't wish to tuck into the juicy fruit as soon as it appears in the season. Summers at my mother's village home were fun, where we siblings and our cousins would wait expectantly for our grandfather, whom we called Aappa, and our uncles to announce the mango picking day. Aappa would keep cartloads of mangoes to ripen in hay in a special room across the courtyard. In a couple of days the whole house, courtyard and all, would have an overpowering sweet scent of the fruit. Soon, ripe mangoes would go into buckets and tubs filled with water. My granny and aunts would then begin making aamras from the now cooled down and washed mangoes for the whole families of uncles and visiting aunts. All of us kids would be buzzing around, waiting to happily polish off the remaining juice from the mango pits. It was such fun having our fill of fresh mangoes. What a sight each one of us would be, hands and mouths sticky, sweet-smelling and eyes shining with delight!  

    It must be the joy and fun of eating mangoes together that makes the fruit a family thing. Most of the nostalgic stories at our extended family gatherings recount anecdotes about the 'mango season'. We continue to have mango-majaa at my parents' home with a good old mango tree giving us plenty delicious fruit. The fruit from one's own tree, plucked with one's own hands, that's something else! All of us siblings and our children plan trips around the mangoes-plucking time. 

     Rasalu, Kesar, Alphonso, Baiganpalli, Imam Pasand and many more varieties ... I love them all. Boxes of the King Alphonso and Kesar turn into aamras and icecream and pudding and shakes, enjoyed to our hearts' content.  It's also a delight to treat our dear ones to feast on aamras. Calories - counting is a no-no during the aam season. 

     So, as gusts of wind suggest rain, relish the manna while it lasts!