A few weeks ago, I was talking to a 13 year old and she said that strawberries were her favorite fruit.
Of course, I had to ask, what about mangoes?
Mangoes are too messy, she said.

I thought, this is it. Officially now, there’s a generation gap. I was even startled when for the first time in my life, the phrase, “Oh, kids today” escaped my lips, accompanied with gentle disapproving nodding of the head.

I mean, mango is the king of fruits. I cannot think of any thing, cooked up by man or angels as delicious as a mango. When I was a kid, summers were spent in the backyard of my childhood home, with cousins or friends. We had a big tub full of ice and water where we would put in dozens of Pyaari Aam, little golden and red nuggets of heaven. We would sit with our feet in the cold water, pick out a mango and roll it between our palms to soften the pulp. Then we would tear a little hole on top and suck through it.

It was really messy, yes, and often meant we all had to take a bath afterward, but that never stopped us from loving mangoes.

I’ve never met a mango I did not love. I can’t say the same about “kids today” though.