Manasu madukkuvolam Manga..Ma Ma Ma

That little roadside mango stall (weekend only) in HSR became a part of our summer routine this year. It wasn’t just about buying fruit—it felt like visiting someone we knew. A mother and her daughters ran it, their smiling faces inspite of the long hours standing, with the pride that comes from putting something honest on the table. Sree found it during his weekend runs and then over the weeks, we found ourselves going back again and again. Sindoora, Mallika, Raspuri—we tried them all, sometimes repeating our favorites without even checking the price. Each variety brought its own sweetness, its own mood. There was a trust within us the mangoes were like from our own farm and all we did was enjoying whatever was ripe that day, bringing home a nice 6-8 kgs of them. For Appu, milk shake became the breakfast most days instead of the regular puttu or corn flakes, while we indulged in eating them, as a whole or as cut pieces. 

For almost four or five weeks, not a single weekend went by without mangoes finding their way into our home. They became the sweet after each meal, one of those small, seasonal joys that quietly found its place this summer ! 

With sindoora mangoes , i made mampazha pulissery and each time, the aroma carried me back to a different time altogether. To childhood summers that felt endless. To afternoons when a simple plate of rice with mampazha koottan felt like the most comforting meal in the world.

One summer where we didn't miss eating mangoes or had to think twice before eating. No luxury of alphonso or Imam pasand but the joy of eating some nice fresh sweet mangoes. When the past and present seemed to gently come together.