Hapus Aley!

Thankful and reflective in a world 

where much is mixed up.

that buying mangoes is still a thing

and memories are many

of fragrances

of sun warmed charpaaies

and the resin, dripping from stems

The Market where BRK used to buy the boxes

rough hewn and filled with sweet smelling hay

and remind me always

that hard working farmers grew them

and that the largest and that 

the best ones were always always

sent abroad, a word I did not then understand

Export Quality he used to say and

explain that the mangoes went on a plane 

to places far away

And now I buy them

unloaded off planes

and get a call from the store from a brother

from the Emerald Isle in the Indian Ocean

The Alphonso are here, are you coming

I pay him and get a box and a half

not knowing when the next batch will arrive by plane

Now I am at the receiving end of the export.

I alert friends who understand hapus

The children are happy, are these the REAL THING? They quip. knowing that I am a Mumbai girl

And I marvel that I, 

societally single

Am able to continue the traditions of my father

where buying mangoes is an annual ritual

I place a fruit at the alter and light a diya of thanks

for farmers who grow mangoes

the rains that watered them

and the insects that made possible, the flowers and fruit

and for memories

that wing me back to the places 

where charpaaies sit under mango trees

waiting ...

that someday I shall return

the same way the mangoes came to me