Miss Mango- A Cute Mini Story
As he touches her in a rare and strange encounter, he begins challenging his own assumptions about life.
Story By: S A Spencer
Photo by Rajendra Biswal
“You remembered me after so long?”
“No.” I look down. “I see you every day when I come out of my home. But I didn’t know you can communicate. Otherwise…”
“I don’t. normally. I am a silent spectator of what happens around me.”
An unknown fear ripples through my conscious. All private chats between Becky, my wife and me while roaming in our front garden are no more confidential. At least one living being has heard them. What about privacy laws?
I stare at my mobile phone for the message that just pinged. ‘Morning meeting cancelled.’
I had started early than my normal time because of this meeting. I decide to use the rare, but the spare time to engage in this unnatural communication nobody on this earth will accept as true.
Chat with the mango tree in my front yard.
I am still hesitant if I should do this. Tons of problems have smashed my life and made it a hell. A rush of anxiety rushes through me. Should I use this extra time to reach the office early and make another effort to please my… the biggest idiot of the world, my boss?
“What are you pondering?”
“I… me… I am… what my neighbours will think of me. A mad man who is talking to himself standing near a tree?”
A soft laugh tingles my ear. “You don’t realise. Your mouth isn’t even open mouth so far. It is something which you may call silent, subconscious talking.”
I feel my lips actually didn’t move while speaking. When did I learn this?
Curiosity grows in me. “Okay, then. What do you see?”
“I am observing you for years. In the beginning, when you and Becky brought me from the nursery and planted in your yard, I was your darling for a few years. You both tendered me like your own child. Gave food and water regularly. I was so delighted with your care.”
Whatever she told is actually true. I am hesitant whether to use ‘he’ or ‘she’ in this movement towards to a more gender fair environment. Nonetheless, I choose to use ‘she’ because like a female the tree bear fruit.
“You’re right. It is none of your fault. In the initial days when we bought this newly constructed house in the suburb of Sydney, we both were thrilled. We had so many dreams, like the end line of a love story-lived happily ever after.”
“Good to hear that. Then what happened?”
A neighbour crosses on the footpath, holding his office backpack. Awareness hunts me. Am I really not appearing like talking to myself?
“Ready for going to the office?” he asks as he walks past.
“Yes, but will take the next local train. Have a nice day.”
“Same to you.” He disappears in no time. The quiet residential street again becomes ---.
I need to answer my mango tree. And go ahead before Becky comes out, as she would take the 8.30 train to the city.
“Then?” I scratch my head how to answer. I am not answering to a human who would understand our problems. Still, I decide to continue. At least I can vent my feelings to someone which I haven’t done in ages.
“I didn’t get time. Being a tree, you wouldn’t realise what sorts of problems a human has to undergo. First, take a huge mortgage to buy this house as we need a roof above our head. Then struggle to keep the job when a recession comes like a tsunami. We have so many worries. Becky’s company is undergoing a restructuring and she may lose her job. My boss is unhappy. Not because I am underperforming, but because his boss is harassing him.”
A silence descends between us. This would be a wrong word as there is no exchange of sounds during our chatting.
“I’m sure all these are beyond your understanding. After all, you are a…”
“A tree, not human.” She chuckled and swished. “I know. I don’t have to understand. Are you still in a hurry or you have some time to spare?”
“Umm. Twenty minutes.” I answer without checking my wristwatch.
“Okay, now look at me.”
I chortled. “What is new to that? I always glance at you each time I enter or exit home.”
“Still. Focus on me, and also give me a name.”
I again scratch my head. Name? What can I give to a mango tree?
“Can I suggest you something?”
“Of course.”
“A while ago you were thinking if I am a male or female. And took a mental note to count me as ‘she’ because I can bear fruit.”
“You can read mind too?” another round of surprise hits me. Whatever. If a tree can communicate, it can probably do something I have never envisaged.
“But you can never bear fruit!”
“Because I haven’t attained the right age to do that. Do you humans reach reproductive age when you are still a child?”
He, no, she is right.
“You can call me Shanti, means ‘peace’.”
“Okay, I am focussing.”
Something takes my attention. For the first time I see panicles of flowers sprouting on it, sorry, her. I realise it’s almost the end of winter and time for mango trees to blossom.
“Nice. At last.” I say with a smile. “I must tell my Becky the good news.”
“Go inside and tell her. Now. She will also be happy.”
I think for a few seconds and then say, “Nope. She will ask me what I was doing all the time when she knows I have left home almost twenty minutes ago. Maybe in the evening.”
“Okay, no worries. Wil you like to touch my newly generated soft and variegated purple-red leaves?”
I hesitate for a moment. After all, now she is like a woman. What if Becky comes out and notices I am touching another woman?
“Come on, no one will mind. I am still a tree. Your own tree.”
I step forward and touch the leaves. A tingle passes through my nerves, heart slows down and all my anxieties vanish in a moment.
“Wonderful.” I feel a smile coming out on my lips and my head becoming light in a moment. Why have I never thought of spending time with the very tree Becky and I had planted after buying this house, assuming it would be lucky for us?
“I am sorry I didn’t take care of you for the past so many years. And promise I will spend some time each day. Your presence is so calming.”
“Thank you. A few days ago, you and your wife both were talking here. That your life is like me-fruitless. But always be patient. And positive events will flood your life. You are unnecessarily worrying.”
She is right.
“Thank you. You are a hundred percent right. See you again.”
Instead of going towards the train station, which is just half a kilometre away from my home, I go back home. As I enter inside, Becky, who was almost ready to start for her job asks, me. “What happened? You didn’t go to work? Is everything all right?”
I let out a loud laugh. “I am all right. Perfectly well. Why do you think everything is gloomy?”
“What else can I think? I may lose the job and whatever job I’m applying, all are resulting in rejections. You are always tense because of your office.”
I step forward and take her in a tight hug. “You will still lose your job even if you stay stressed, thinking about what would happen. Can I suggest something?”
“What?” she met my gaze.
“Take today off. I am also taking an off day. Whatever is going to happen won’t stop if we don’t go for a day.”
“What do we do then?”
“Nothing. Spend some time with our plants. Especially Shanti.”
“Shanti?”
“Yes, our very dear mango tree. She has sprouted flower for the first time, and this is auspicious for both of us. We both will talk to her, chat between us and enjoy today.”
“What about…”
“Without worrying about tomorrow.”
She grabs me and kisses my lips. “Yes. Today is blissful.”
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