The Villager Who Loved Mangoes
Once upon a time, on the banks of a wide river, there stood a prosperous village. On the outskirts of the village lived a man named Mani. Mani was a poor man who just about made ends meet by selling vermilion, coconuts and other articles needed for daily worship outside the village temple. It was needless to say that he had no wife or children for what sensible man would give his daughter in marriage to the likes of him? Every night he would come to his one room hut, light a small fire and cook a meager supper. He would then sit and look at the mango tree in his backyard and wistfully remember how his forefathers had once owned sprawling mango orchards outside the village. However, an addiction to alcohol and love for gambling had permeated through the family tree and eventually, the orchard dwindled to just one mango tree. Mani took great care of the tree, devoting a sizable proportion of his low income to its needs. He did so because once a year, there would grow on the tree , the most sweet and wondrous mangoes Mani had ever tasted. It was nearly the season for mangoes. Mani licked his lips in anticipation of the fruit which he would receive in a few weeks’ time.Nothing that Mani had ever eaten came even close to giving him the joy which these mangoes did. He was so crazy about them that the people called him “The Villager Who Loves Mangoes”.
The days rolled on and one fine morning, Mani woke up to inspect his tree when he finally saw what his heart had been craving for since a year. Two fine golden mangoes were hanging from the branches just ready to be plucked. However, someone else had also seen them. The village children who often played on the open ground next to his hut had noticed the tree. One of them was standing near the small fence made of sticks and branches which Mani had built around his yard. His hungry eyes were eyeing the two golden orbs.
“Look at his wicked eyes gleaming maniacally” thought Mani.”Just waiting for me to go to work so that he can take away what is rightfully mine. I will not go to sell my wares today. I’ll pluck the mangoes myself and find a place to enjoy them.”
So, Mani climbed the tree and cradling his beautiful mangoes, he went inside the house. “Should I eat them here? No, that pestilent friend of mine might drop in. He has always been hinting he’ll come around during mango season. What about near the lake? No, the scraggy fellow who plies a boat there knows me. He might ask for a slice. Where do I go?”
After much contemplation, Mani packed up his mangoes in a cloth and set out into a forest which lay east to the village. He walked deeper and deeper into it lest he encounter anyone who might deprive him of his beloved mangoes. Finally, he found a place where there was nothing but the babble of birds and gentle rustling of leaves.
He opened the cloth in which the mangoes were packed in a moment of pure unbridled joy but the joy turned to horror as he discovered a hole in the cloth . The mangoes had slipped out from the hole and he hadn’t even noticed. Mani went numb and fell to the ground, clutching his head and wailing like a new born. His tears would not subside as the loss of his beloved mangoes almost crippled him.
Suddenly, he felt a strange glow around him which started growing stronger and stronger. The white blaze almost blinded him and a gentle voice spoke “I am the Yaksha who dwells in this forest. For centuries, I have slept peacefully. But, today your cries have awakened me. What pains you so, my son?”
Mani recanted his story and the voice said “Is that all? Well, go home and you will now find that your mango tree will have fruits on it every day. They will always be ripe. They will never spoil. They will refuse to detach from the tree unless it is your hand which does the plucking. You need not take care of the tree as it will always remain fertile even in drought or flood. “ The voice faded away as the glow vanished.
Mani could not believe what had happened. Leaping up , he ran home to see that the Yaksha’s blessing had come true. He now had mangoes every day. Every morning, noon and night, he would feast on these fruits which refused to be plucked unless by his own hand. He grew greedy as he ate more and more. Never stopping to work, he spent all his time in plucking and eating mangoes. He laughed at the boys who asked for a piece and refused to invite anyone into his home to partake in his feast. Any friendly visitor was turned away with a rude face and contempt.
But, sorrowfully, as his body stopped receiving other nutrients which are not found from mangoes, Mani began to fall sick. His madness for mangoes became so extreme that he would not even take medicine claiming that his mangoes were the best medicine for him. His eyes drooped, shoulders became weak and ultimately, he could not even eat his beloved mangoes anymore. Refusing to eat anything else, Mani passed away in his sleep, decrepit and alone.
This is a normal story taught to kids. Mani was selfish and loved something to such an extent that it brought about his destruction. The moral taught here is don’t indulge in excesses. A true lesson but highly idealistic. However, the next paragraphs present the same story with a twist.
Mani could not believe what had happened. Leaping up , he ran home to see that the Yaksha’s blessing had come true. He now had mangoes every day. For a few days, he feasted on the mangoes but eventually he grew tired. He had an idea, “Why don’t I sell these mangoes? They are far better than any other mango grown in the village.”
So, Mani began selling his mangoes outside the village temple. Everyone in the village loved them and the demand grew day-by-day. However, after some months, the villagers started getting bored of the mangoes too and Mani’s sales dropped. Then, Mani met with a merchant who owned three huge ships. He entered into a partnership with him to export the mangoes to distant shores. The merchant was only too happy to do so as the mangoes would not spoil on the journey. Mani’s mangoes became a hit in these cities too and slowly, Mani became prosperous enough to build a huge house where his hut once stood. He became one of the richest men in the village. He married a beautiful woman and had three children.
Mani was also well respected by the community. Any visitor to his house would be greeted with a smile for Mani knew how painful it is to be alone.He regularly fed the poor as he never forgot the pangs of hunger. He used his money to build hospitals for the sick, rest houses for the weary and playgrounds for the young. He gave his mangoes free to the kids who became exhausted after playing in the grounds next to his house. He was always grateful to the Yaksha who had blessed him with this great gift and felt a sense of pride in being able to share the gift with others as well as being able to make his life comfortable. He died peacefully, an old man, surrounded by his loved ones and well wishers and instead of being known as the “Villager Who Loved Mangoes”, he was remembered as the “Villager Who Loved.”
This is a story which which is highly logical and practical. A deviation from the ‘There Is Always Retribution’ theme we’ve grown up on. We are all blessed with abilities which are like these mangoes. They do not deteriorate and they work the best for us. We need to find these abilities and how to be resourceful enough to use these abilities for the best purposes. Our struggles shape us and during times of prosperity, it is necessary that we do not forget them nor do we ridicule others’ struggles. The very abilities which can build our lives can destroy them too. We need to make better choices of what to do with our abilities based on reason and empathy.