THE MANGO THIEF

I was already in a dilemma on how to cope with the sudden shock. The mango tree farm where I used to play with my friends was destroyed and was about to be converted into a tennis lawn. We had an open field, and I didn't have a place to hide. I didn't have fleshy green branches to shelter me with love.

A ripe mango ready to be picked from the tree

Numbness and dumbness is all I could feel, with huge mangoes in my small hands — the few tasteful memories I have.

That summer, before the pulp touched my tongue, the wild steel arms of a yellow JCB ran over the farm as my friends and I peeped through the window. All we were left with was a dusty field and a hot sun shining over our wounds.

Can the world not spare a place to find love? The kind where one could stay a refuge and steal mangoes — having it all to myself, under the shadow of the tree, escaping reality, with each bite devouring the hard fleshy pulp, trying to cure me from inside, helping me find myself in the lost farm.

If my teacher asked me what I wanted to become when I grew up, I would proudly say — A Mango Thief.

A thief who steals all the mangoes and hides inside his omnipotent wardrobe, embedded under the bars of my Ribs, waiting. Conspiring for a moment of solitude to meet Mr. Ripe Mango.

If Newton had a mango dropped on his head instead of an apple, he would definitely become a mango thief — and he might have gone a little further, deceiving all the members of the scientific world into believing that the human race is born for the delight of this fleshy, yellow-ochre fruit.

Maybe the third law would have been:

"For every Action there is an equal and opposite Pulp Fiction" — exclusively applies to thieves only.

If you ask me how long I'll be playing this role of thief?

Maybe until the summer ends. And before winter. And repeat it every year.

What happens on the winter days? I stay in bed longing for summer, or I upgrade my heist skills and become a better mango thief.

Until then, I'm fine with apples.

Yes — the one which fell on Newton's head. The one that caused a future concussion in the modern generation. Double the pain for me, honestly, because I lost both the farm and got stuck with gravity.

Consequences of becoming a Mango Thief — None.

Why?

Because Nobody wants to be one.