A sweet encounter in Melbourne
At a juice shop in suburban Melbourne, the lady behind the counter announced that mangoes were arriving soon. The crowd's joy intrigued me. The following week, boxes of mangoes sold quickly at prices I hesitated to pay. I had enjoyed the finest mangoes in Pakistan at much cheaper rates. I asked if they were 'chaunsa' mangoes from Pakistan. She checked the labels, said yes, and passed me one. It was worth every dollar for the nostalgia of honey-like sweetness, buttery flesh, and addictive taste.
Shared love across borders
Behind me in the queue were two young people. We talked about summers, monsoons, and mangoes eaten over kitchen sinks. They insisted alphonso mangoes from Mumbai were superior. I disagreed. Beneath the mock rivalry was a shared love that ignored borders.
I recalled Jakarta over a decade ago, with cadet journalists from India, Pakistan, and Afghanistan. Months after the Mumbai attacks, fingers pointed at Pakistan. Yet colleagues from both countries came together praising their mangoes during breaks.
Mango memories in Germany
Later, in Germany, a Lahore colleague at Deutsche Welle invited me to an amateur theatre club. Rehearsals included slices of chaunsa and alphonso mangoes. Mangoes trace back over 4,000 years to the Indian subcontinent, symbols of love and prosperity.
Mango party in Melbourne
Now in Melbourne, a cricket mate from New Delhi threw a mango music party in the Australian winter. It was a summery delight that transcends boundaries. Despite historic animosity between India and Pakistan, mangoes sweeten relations. At the party, music and mangoes liberated people from bitter pasts. The host's mango flavour made it memorable.
