Off-Season
Madhav Ahuja
‘You still crave summer, but sometimes you mean summer, five years ago.’
Tape I, Side A.
I’ve never really liked summers. The heat kills me, sweat’s ready to turn into tears. But at least it meant that Dadu would return with a bag full of mangoes every time he returned from the market. And watermelons, but they never mattered to me. It was unfortunate, actually; I never liked watermelons, but I was forced to have them.
‘Fruits are nutritious, eat them if you want to live healthier and longer,’ I was handed a bowl. Trying to gulp pieces of watermelon down with water was a bad idea, I know now.
But mango shake it was. Too much of it. Breakfast, lunch, dinner – mango shake, 6 cubes of ice. At one point, the sound of the blender had started to annoy my mother. I laughed it off, turned the blender on again. ‘July’s coming soon. No more mangoes.’ I laughed it off again – I tried, at least.
Tape I, Side C (Don’t tapes have just two sides?)
But what, if not mango shake?
Tape I, Side B.
Came July. It wasn’t cold enough for tea yet, but the teapot steamed several times every morning.
‘Tea stains bring misfortune,’ I was told, ‘rinse the cup when you finish.’ He used to drink 4 cups a day. Left in a hurry, that was his way. I chuckle now.
He ate a lot of fruit though. ‘Eat fruit, all kinds if you want to live healthier and longer,’ he used to say. Healthier and longer.
Nobody forces me to have fruits anymore. No apple, no watermelon. No water, no attempts to gulp.
Summers later, I checked the bag again. Mangoes they were, but greener ones. I liked the yellow ones better. They were sweeter; made a better mango shake. ‘Papa, do the yellow ones not come anymore?’ I asked. Gentle was never a way in this household. But I knew from then on that the yellow ones went away with June.
Came the end of summer. I didn’t have to wait for June or July – April was cold enough.
Tape III.
Dadu is long gone. So is summer. So are yellow mangoes. My dad and I talk less. We both prefer coffee, though.
Tape IV, All sides sound the same.
It’s a grey morning; I see flecks of brown. Off-season for mangoes, but matters not to me anymore. ‘I don’t eat mangoes, they give me acne.’ That’s what my mother used to say too. It was her favourite fruit. I don’t know what her favourite fruit is anymore.
My sister loves mangoes, the yellow ones. She waits for April. I hope the world ends in June. I hope the summer never feels like the end of spring, and the dawn and dusk of winter to her. It’s a break from school after all, a long, long one. And it has mango shake.
“If you ever decide to age, love, invite me. I’ll retire my bones to make you tea, and read you poetry.”
Mango shakes and movies work too, though. Let’s invite mom and dad too – one time won’t give us acne, hopefully.
We jump a lot in time,
Madhav.
Editor’s note:
When we first started ideating on the theme of the upcoming issue, it was near the beginning of my twelfth grade and my last year before adulthood, and I had just started reading ‘On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous’ by Ocean Vuong. That book gave me a new perspective on nostalgia — it’s not just the good old days, but rather the presence of absence – and I knew then what I wanted the issue to be about. Gladly, we moved forward with the idea.
Now, after roughly 6 months of ideating, writing, reading, editing, designing, the issue is finally out, and I’m happier than I could be. Saudade is really special to me for reasons and reasons and reasons, but it’s also really special to Reflections as a team, because Saudade has brought a lot along with it — a new website, a new layout, a new team, and lots and lots of memories. I hope the readers love this edition as much as I do, which is quite impossible, I must say.
Love, gratitude and more,
Madhav
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