THE MANGO TREE
It was one afternoon in Summer during lunch time the casual staff entered with a plate of cut mango, and indeed it was a pleasant surprise to relish fresh ‘hapus’ with my simple Tiffin, he said that it was from his village where his family has a solitary Mango Tree . And I could understand that there was this sense of belonging to his village, and I am sure he was proud of his solitary mango tree., why then would he offer that mango from his solitary tree to me? He conveyed so much! It enhanced his status! How many of us have a mango tree in our village? Do we know our village?
This small gesture of his made me think, I wondered that this young man lives in Mumbai; city of supreme urbanization where there is hardly any space for courtesies and culture, where the demands of survival smother the tenderness of humanity . Therefore in such a milieu the visit to his village purifies him of urban ills, it cleanses his sensitivity and makes him human once more.
And the incident took me back to my village in search of my mango tree, far in the sub- H imalayan terrain in the valley of Garhwal. And I looked at my mango tree and was told by the villager that this year no mangoes appeared, but I was not disappointed, for I had made my Trip! And I resolved to visit again to remain rooted to my origin and relish the sweetness of my mango tree.
We all have our mango tree hidden far away, we must visit our tree for our sustenance and regeneration , or plant one for survival.
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