It seemed certain a couple of weeks ago that we were not going to have a glut of mangoes this summer. And now, into the second week of April, it appears we are not going to have a summer either.
In February the mango trees were bare of flowers. Ours told us quite frankly that it was taking the year off, the usually bountiful tree across the northeastern wall was sparsely dotted with the pale green blooms. Word trickled in that Sita Mami's tree was sulking. When Ugadi came around, Bhudevi was shocked and indignant: We may have to BUY a raw mango for the Ugadi pachchadi, akka! For a residential area well supplied with mango trees, it was a bit of a stunner. So yes, it came to that in the end. I paid Rs 10 for a smallish bit of sour green.
There are hardly any green mangoes and certainly no yellow ones. The desperation will obviously mean that fraudsters will hurry to chemically ripen the available crop, which renders even those inedible.
But what was happening to the season itself? February was pleasant and we gloated somewhat, with a wary eye out for the punches that March would hurl at us. March marched past, with the higher temperatures hovering around 37 C, sometimes 38. It's hot, we said to each other in a compulsive fashion; it was what we should be saying at this time, but our tones lacked conviction. Now, in April, we are getting the most dramatic storms. Gusts, thunder, lightening and all-night rain. I'm pulling on two sheets and the fan's regulator points at 3, occasionally 2. I'm actually wearing my denims. What on earth is happening?
We may yet get the usual treatment in May, but it is already safe to say that it's going to a highly truncated version.
Pausing
for dramatic effect
Hyderabadi summer
In February the mango trees were bare of flowers. Ours told us quite frankly that it was taking the year off, the usually bountiful tree across the northeastern wall was sparsely dotted with the pale green blooms. Word trickled in that Sita Mami's tree was sulking. When Ugadi came around, Bhudevi was shocked and indignant: We may have to BUY a raw mango for the Ugadi pachchadi, akka! For a residential area well supplied with mango trees, it was a bit of a stunner. So yes, it came to that in the end. I paid Rs 10 for a smallish bit of sour green.
There are hardly any green mangoes and certainly no yellow ones. The desperation will obviously mean that fraudsters will hurry to chemically ripen the available crop, which renders even those inedible.
But what was happening to the season itself? February was pleasant and we gloated somewhat, with a wary eye out for the punches that March would hurl at us. March marched past, with the higher temperatures hovering around 37 C, sometimes 38. It's hot, we said to each other in a compulsive fashion; it was what we should be saying at this time, but our tones lacked conviction. Now, in April, we are getting the most dramatic storms. Gusts, thunder, lightening and all-night rain. I'm pulling on two sheets and the fan's regulator points at 3, occasionally 2. I'm actually wearing my denims. What on earth is happening?
We may yet get the usual treatment in May, but it is already safe to say that it's going to a highly truncated version.
Pausing
for dramatic effect
Hyderabadi summer
