It has been that time of the year. Despite doomsday predictions about a poor crop, from unseasonal rain, hail or wind, the local markets were awash with all sorts of mangoes. Topping the list of the king of fruits in Chennai was the Banganapalle. The mellow yellow skin that glistens and beckons is like a beacon of taste. Over the years I have become adept at spotting the good ones without really touching or smelling them. I was driving past a pyramid-shaped cart full of them recently when something told me these were sweet ones! Hurriedly I pulled over, taking a motorcyclist by surprise, for a change, till I pointed to the mangoes — which had a surprisingly calming effect on the rider.

A relative was hoping to time her visit to India from the United States to sample her fair share of the seasonal offer. She was sounding low at the prospect that the whole season may pass her by; the the Mexican mangoes back home were such an apology for the real ones here! We then discussed how we ought to start a mango export business so that a whole lot of people could get their rightful share. She also told me each one is priced at almost $6 and is considered exotic.

In America, the Brazilian bananas rule the roost. I thought standardisation of taste in the name of safety could be making people short-tempered. There is some culinary science to be explored there.

A friend advised me to hurriedly freeze some for her as it was quite likely that the best would soon be gone. It was sad, the urgency in her voice, as the frozen mango loses much when unfrozen.

My daughter was not answering my phone calls so I messaged her there would be no mangoes for her if she continued to avoid my calls. Promptly she messaged back about being busy with this and that and how when I come to see her could I please smuggle a few mangoes past Customs? She told me there were mangoes in Hawaii, where she is, that rot and fall to the ground but people still buy only from the supermarkets. She and a friend gathered some of the fallen fruit surreptitiously from under a neighbour’s tree hoping not to be shooed away. They made mango pulp that was delicious.

Just like the weather many people were enquiring about the state of the mango crop in your part of India this year. It gave them a strange sense of geographical satiation since mangoes from one part of the country are rarely available in another. So the greedy are stuck with their own stock. Evocative and unfamiliar names of local varieties — neelam, badami, benishan, safeda — are shared. I remember walking in the hills around Coonoor where ripe mangoes had fallen under a tree. Quite unimpressive in terms of size, shape or colour, they had an incredible new flavour. What they were called it was unclear. Just great taste to be enjoyed largely by the locals, parrots and casual wanderers.

At least one popular brand of home-based blood glucose testing kits seemed to have tried to identify itself with the hardship of the diabetics in the mango season. The advertisement said the mango season was best enjoyed when you know your sugar levels accurately.

An apple a day might keep the doctor away, but the mango king is far ahead, having settled in people’s hearts.

eastcoastortho@hotmail.com