This year, while the Jan showers left many agriculturalists wondering about their mango crop, we were showered with almost double the crop from the year before. My guess is, our slow and sustainable natural farming methods are beginning to show.

We brought tons of fruit to Bombay, and you shared it not only with your family and friends locally, but sent it across seas – the UK, Hong Kong, Dubai, China, the US. Chefs explored with mangoes in their kitchens.

The stories you’ve shared kept us going… The school principal who planted herself on the floor, placed a neatly ironed napkin on herself, and proceeded to eat, dripping juice all over, fisherwoman-style. The young lady who remembered only one thing from the night before party, a dude talking about farm mangoes. The Chef that exclaimed, my entire kitchen smells of mango. The lady who shared that her kids chomped through the fruit, for the first time in their lives. The bent over old lady on the street who upon seeing mangoes come into her lap, slowly lifted her head, pulled my face toward her with her street-toughened and thick hands, and kissed my forehead. The guy that said, I don’t really eat mangoes, took one bite, and the statement reversed itself. The BMC street cleaners that stared incredulously at first at the hand from the mango van, followed moments later waving mango to each other, over brooms and across streets. The many who would order a box, and a day later, call, with a sheepish smile in their voice, for another box.

Bombay, thanks for being receptive to naturally nurtured fruit. This year, less folk cared about irregular shape, colour, size, and more folk cared for quality fruit, one that delivers wholesome flavours, but more importantly, one that filled their homes again, of the scents of amba, a memory they had held since childhood.

All this in the span of 5 weeks…