May is the month for sucking mangoes. Not any old mangoes. The Alphonso, the richest, juiciest, most succulent of yellow flesh that grow here and come fresh from the trees. Well, actually in my case, the street seller who shouted his wares from the street outside the apartment. But with a little imagination I can close my eyes and reach up to the fruit and with the lightest of touches, feel it surrender into my hands.
In my last blog I was very impolite about the buses. This time I can ring the praises of the Indian budget airline that flew me back in 50 minutes. Pofessional, comfortable, on time and a pleasure to fly with. Ok there was another four hours on a bus after that in the middle of a tropical rainstorm. I'm glad it was the evening, in the dark and the advertising on the bus windows blanked out the turmoil on the roads. Hearing the constant sound of horns and feeling the bus weave in and out of the traffic was enough and I did not allow whatever fertility I have have left in my brain to be wasted on this.
Save it for Alphonso.
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Hello Simon,
ReplyDeleteThanks for your blog which I enjoy, especially as you evoke the India we lived in for three lovely years. I too was bathed in Bhuddism from time to time and have stayed in Bhuddist montasteries etc - it does give you a calmer perspective, some of which stays with you.
I look foeward to your next one. Enjoy - and good luck.
Walter.