On Fathers and Local Mangoes

Growing up, every summer, my father would bring home dozens of Chadrakaran mangoes in varying stages of ripeness. He would carefully plan for each mango’s maturity, while my mother and I would greedily consume the fruits of his labour. 

He would first wash the mangoes thoroughly. Then, with his trusty kerala kathi (a kitchen knife with a black iron blade), he would lop off the tops of the mangoes and violently squeeze out the poor pulp onto some warm rice, cold curd, and granulated sugar.

If I close my eyes, I can still hear the weird squelching sounds of the mangoes being squeezed to an inch of their sweet lives. Once three mangoes were thoroughly extinguished, he would distribute the plates for us to customise—more curd, more sugar, or even more mangoes. 

Something about the hot-cold, sweet-sour pairing has settled deep in me. 

The Chandrakaran is a lovely small variety of mango with loose skin, and fibrous, juicy flesh that has the right amount of sweet and sour. In my home, it is used either in a mambazham pulisery or this mango curd rice.