Tale of the mango taster

LR Sharma

The story is about eight decades old when my father was a 20-year-old youth. As per his account, Jethu and Kanhu were look-alike twins in the village. Kanhu, the younger one, was taller and gifted. He was willing to lend a helping hand and would take on bullies and mischief-makers. The elder Jethu was then serving in the princely Suket state’s constabulary. Once when Jethu fell ill and was unable to attend the daily obligatory drill, Kanhu impersonated him, attended the drill and came back unnoticed. Such was their similarity.

The piece de resistance is the incident that follows. Kanhu was a great lover of mangoes. In the month of ‘shravan’, he would visit Jarol, a place famous for mangoes. On one such jaunt, he sent for my father, and asked to follow him. ‘Look Brij Lal, I will treat you today with the choicest of mangoes. But you will have to pretend to be my mango taster. Just do what I say. You will not approve any mango till I give you the nod,’ he ordered.

Both set out on foot to Jarol. Vendors were seen displaying mango varieties in bamboo baskets. In those days, mangoes were sold by numbers, and not by weight.

Kanhu stopped before a vendor and ordered my father to taste a mango. Tasting was free in those days. ‘My servant will taste one mango from each basket. I will purchase a full basket of the sweetest in the lot. This boy is a gifted mango taster,’ Kanhu declared, thumping his bulging shirt pocket, ringing the silver coins.

My father tasted some mangoes and this continued. No one objected. Then Kanhu moved to a vendor whose mangoes were the largest in size. By now my father had consumed 8-10 mangoes and he had no heart to eat. But he moved to pick up the fruit. The vendor had been watching the drama. ‘This mango is very sweet. Each piece weighs half a ‘ser’. You can see there are only 20 pieces in the basket. Your mango taster can taste one piece, but I will charge one anna,’ he said.

‘All right, if it is as sweet as you claim, I will purchase the whole lot,’ Kanhu retorted, banging the coins in his pocket as before.

My father gingerly cupped the large fruit in his hands and sucked the first charge of the pulp and exclaimed, ‘very sweet’, forgetting his master’s orders. Realising the blunder, he took to his heels and watched from a distance what followed. There was a verbal duel, followed by a scuffle and then exchange of blows.

Some passers-by calmed them down. Kanhu sauntered towards my father, unruffled, but with a torn shirt cuff.

‘What happened?’ asked my father. ‘Nothing, only the taster fled from the scene. I hugged the vendor and departed without paying a nickel,’ Kanhu said with a wink.

But I resolved in my mind not to act as a mango taster.

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