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My first encounter with mangoes was again in my MD uncle's home in Vizagh in 1958.
And it was devastating.
Living in a popular doctor's house has its drawbacks...despite the free medical attention and services you get.
Wealthy patients tend to show their gratitude to their saviors, in kind, in addition to cash.
One such regular patient, Thuni Raja, a veritable hypochondriac, gifted my uncle a puppy of nebulous pedigree. And since Uncle couldn't displease the Raja, he accepted it politely although he didn't have a clue of what to do with it. Too poor to keep a keeper. So, a leash was attached to the puppy's neck and it was chained to a pillar in the front verandah.
And it howled by day and by night.
So Uncle asked me to 'run' that pup daily at sunrise on the sea-beach from the Naval Battery to the Scandal Point and back, saying it would be good exercise for me too (which I didn't need). It was a run of 10 km to and from home.
Folks tend to have romantic notions of a beach-front house or a snow-capped one. They are wrong. Absolutely. The only happy place to live in all seasons is Hyderabad (Janapriya Nile Valley, South Corner West-facing Flat, 6th floor...House on the Hill).
Vizagh Beach was then a public convenience. And tricky to skip early morning leavings. And even at sunrise it was hot and humid...except for a week in winter...December 29 to January 4th when the turbulent Bay of Bengal turns into a mill pond. And running on sand with 'hawai' chappals was dicey.
At first I was leading the bubbling puppy for two weeks. And I don't know what Auntie was feeding her pup...it grew by leaps and bounds into the first cousin of the Hound of the Baskervilles. And I couldn't keep pace with him. He was leading me by leaps and bounds. And I was scared I would lose my grip and he would run away (which I was praying for in the heart of my hearts nonetheless).
Luckily Dusserah Vacations happened and I fled to my parents' place 500 km away for a month. On returning there was no trace of the hound...
Auntie told me he ran away when her kid-son tried running him...
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And the Thuni Raja was sorry and gifted Uncle a pair of pretty bunnies. They were so cute to watch...their blinking frightened pinkish eyes, and their lobe antennae...and their hops and leaps.
But there was this flip side to it all: that pair was humongously fecund. They multiplied in a Fibonacci Series. And we were pure vegetarians. And they had no predators in our home. And pretty soon they turned into our environmental disaster, like their ancestors in Australia; from National Pets into National Pests . And they were all over the place...bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and hall.
Luckily for us, all of them went belly up within a span of 24 hours rather mysteriously...maybe of an attack by a poor cousin of our Wuhan Virus.
All of us breathed easy...except the rabbits.
Well that is life!
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And then came the Mango Season...
Thuni Raja sent us two gunny bags full of ripe mangoes. Must be a couple of hundred. And they were stored in a nook in the Hall, accessible to the two kids (3 & 4) of my uncle and aunt.
Trouble was they were not table mangoes. They were full of juice and pulp. Nothing solid inside except their huge big seeds. Indeed they were called 'Juicies' (రసాలు).
Uncle was busy in his Hospital. Auntie in her kitchen. My elder sister in her Medical College. And I at my University. So the two kids had the run of the bags.
And juice flowed all over the floor like a flood. And it was the season of houseflies...my pet enemies.
Auntie tried to palm off a dozen of those mangoes onto our neighbors. But she was like that vet and her bolus...all our neighbors were doctors...we were living in the Official Colony down the King George Hospital.
That month of hell turned me into a mangophobe.
It was seven years later that my friend and I visited a lady-doctor's home in Amalapuram on a friendly visit...she was my sister's classmate.
And she gave us two lovely cheeks of Banganapalle mangoes, with a spoon stuck in each. There was not a single drop of juice. It was a pleasure devouring them.
I wonder why there is no seedless mango yet....
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But of course the real use of mangoes is as pickles. There are a dozen pretenders to the throne but the Queen of them is the 'Andhra Avakaya'. The recipe is simple: raw and tough mango pieces soaked in a mixture of red hot chilli powder, mustard powder, and sesame oil (aka 'ginjelly oil'). But expertise is a must. This pickle came to my rescue when I was a 'forced bachelor' at Kharagpur for a year at the age of 61 (my family was away in Hyderabad).
And I was too lazy to cook. So I used to boil lots of rice and mix it with Avakaya and gobble. Day and Night. And I found "Mother's Andhra Avakaya" bottles and refill pouches the best brand.
But there were consequences...
By the end of the year my head was swimming and my walk random.
When I took my son to the doctor for a checkup in Hyderabad, I mentioned my pleasant symptoms to him, and he checked my BP and found it to be a hefty 180/140. And he gave me such a terrific dose of medication that I couldn't walk without gasping next morning. The BP plummeted to 60/30. The good doc changed the medicine and controlled my BP but warned me that I should continue the tablets lifelong...life has indeed been long since then.
Here is a poetic tribute to Avakaya by an unknown rhymester, forwarded to me by my B-i-L Sri G Ranga Rao IAS:
ఊరిన ముక్కను కొరకగ,
ఔరా! అది ఎంత రుచిని అందించునయా,
కూరిమితొ నాల్గు ముక్కలు
నోరారా తినని నోరు నోరవ్వదుపో!
బెల్లము వేసిన మధురము
పల్లీనూనెను కలపగ పచ్చడి మధురం,
వెల్లుల్లి వేయ మధురము,
పుల్లని మామిడితొ చేయ ముక్కది మధురం!!!
చెక్కందురు, డిప్పందురు,
ముక్కందురు కొంతమంది మురిపెము తోడన్.
డొక్కందురు, మామిడిదౌ
పిక్కందురు దీనికన్ని పేర్లున్నవయా
ఉదయమె బ్రెడ్డున జాముకు
బదులుగ ఇదివాడిచూడు బ్రహ్మాండములే,
అదియేమి మహిమొ తెలియదు,
పదునుగ నీ బుర్ర అపుడు పనిచేయునయా!
ఇందువలదందు బాగని
సందేహము వలదు; ఊట సర్వరుచిహరం
ఎందెందు కలపి చూసిన,
అందందే రుచిగనుండు, అద్భుత రీతిన్!
చప్పటి దుంపలు తినుచును,
తిప్పలు పడుచుంటిమయ్య దేవా, దయతో
గొప్పగు మార్గం బొక్కటి
చెప్పుము మా నాల్కలొక్క చింతలు తీర్పన్
ముక్కోటి దేవులందరు
మ్రొక్కగ తా జిహ్వలేప సృష్టించెనయా
చక్కనిది ఆవకాయన
ముక్క తిననివాడు కొండముచ్చై పుట్టున్!!!
చారెరుగనివాడును,గో
దారిన తా నొక్కమారు తడవని వాడున్,
కూరిమిని ఆవకాయను
ఆరారగ తిననివాడు ఆంధ్రుడు కాడోయ్
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To be Continued...
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