Home of Summer

“Don’t even dare touch the aam.”

My hands shook at the voice. It wasn’t exactly angry or loud, yet I knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to do what I was about to do. At 10, I wasn’t much of a fruit lover, but this season really had me all riled up for some green mangoes. For the sake of my own justification, there are two things that are notable when it comes to my relationship with mangoes.

One, I really don’t care how you, my reader, will react but I don’t like mangoes, the ripe yellowish-green ones to be specific.

Two, on the contrary, I am obsessed with the flavors of green mangoes and anything that has raw mangoes is the best delicacy. Period.

For most Indian household, mangoes are a must-have during summer. There’s this craze around the sweetness and softness of mangoes, which by ‘exaggeration’ are called ‘the king of fruits’ by its lovers, that every home is filled with the aroma of ripe sweetness. Exceptionally, this was the part I never liked about mangoes.

Now comes the better version of mangoes which, in my opinion, is underrated. The sweet and sour green mangoes. And, at the age of 10, on that searing hot day, all I could want was to have some of those beauties in my mouth.

My mother just bought some for some reason. She was one of those mango addicts who eat, drink, dream mangoes. At that age, I have tried all her mango related cuisines. As I wasn’t still allowed to eat anything from outside, my mother was my only way to Indian food. On top of that, she was an excellent chef. And she remains unbeatable to this day.

As I retracted my hands from the fresh mangoes, I slowly turned around to face my mother who had a slight hint of smile on her lips.

I blurted out with a pout to get to her softer side, “I don’t want them in dal anymore.”

Dal is a common multigrain dish in India. As soon as the heat rises in the air, some people tend to put sour mangoes in dal to give it a special summer flavor. It was start of June and I had this dish almost everyday so far. Hence, the determination.

She just gave me a playful smile as she walked off towards the kitchen after declaring, “These are not for dal.”

I frowned a little and asked, “Is this for chatni?”

She replied with a small ‘No’ which left me confused. Then, what was it for? Nonetheless, I half- shouted for what I wanted till now, “Can I eat one? I promise it’ll be just one.”

By now, she had reached the kitchen. Hearing my question, she just peeked slightly from behind the walls, and I could see her playful gleaming eyes as she replied, “No. This is for something special.”

I huffed. What was so special about these mangoes that she couldn’t let me eat one? There were five of them. I didn’t realize that I had been standing there for a while until I saw my mother’s head popping from behind the wall again and her voice, this time, softer saying, “This is for you.”

I understood that she was trying to convince me and that meant there was no point of arguing. I lightly stomped back to my room as I got out the folklore collection I had been reading since the last few days. This was the only medium that could distract me from mangoes.

As time passed, I reached deep into the stories and would have almost forgotten about the fruits I had been whining about if the sour-sweet fragrance hadn’t hit my nostrils. I put my book down sniffing the air. It smelled like green mangoes except it was much heavier than before. A few minutes passed and some other odor got mixed with the fragrance.

I couldn’t just sit still. This needed an investigation. After all, Mother took the mangoes with her. Now, what was she doing with my mangoes?

I ran as fast as I could and barged into the kitchen half-yelling, “Maa, what’re you doing?”

I could care less about my tone at that point as the smell of raw mango with a weird sensation overwhelmed me. My mother was about to respond but before she could do that my eyes travelled down to what she was doing, and they immediately went big. I could bet they probably looked like the round baskets that she used to carry those mangoes which were being sacrificed at that moment.

She was burning them. She put them inside the red-hot flames and from where I saw they had already lost their green hue.

I gasped as I was lost for words. “Wh—What’s going on?”

As I stared at my precious mangoes being incinerated mercilessly, she chuckled at my expression. And, I would have probably pitied me too if I could look at my face then. I was on the verge of crying but then, I heard my mother’s voice which had no bit of regret as she called me, “Come here.”

I slowly stepped towards her, keeping my eyes fixed on her as I couldn’t look at those poor mangoes. And, that day, that moment introduced me to one of the finest summer drinks that existed on this planet.

“Aam pora shorbot.” My mother’s recipe of this Indian mango-based drink could be compared to nectar in heaven.

She eventually taught me how to give it the unique touch of our community to the usual Indian mango drink.

The first step is to slightly carbonize the sides of the mango and wait for the pulp to soften. Next is a note for sour mango lovers like me which is a precaution to tear your attention away from the mangoes, at least until they have cooled down.

I wouldn’t want to waste anymore time, so those who are ‘rabbits’ like me, should start roasting cumin powder and coriander powder while waiting.

The best feeling about this recipe comes when you are taking out the pulp from the mango because that’s all this recipe is about. While blending this in water with roasted spices, some green chilli pastes, and sugar for the extra flavor, your mouth starts to water.

(My mouth is watering as I’m writing this!)

Going back to that day 15 years ago, I still remember being awestruck with the first sip. After that day, Aam pora shorbot had become a regular summer drink for me. It’s not like I haven’t had this drink anywhere else, but nobody so far could beat my mother’s recipe.

After two summers spent in America, I still want to be trapped in that 10 year-old body of mine, not only for that drink but also for the one who made that exclusive first glass for me.