A Trade in Mangoes

                                                                  

In the merchant quarter of the city of Thanjavur, for a long time, there lived a man named Vedanagayam Pillai. Vedu, as he was reverentially referred to by his friends, was born into a family of fruit vendors. Arabian horses drawing carts carrying luscious mangoes from Canara, fine jackfruit from Malabar, plump papaya from Madura and ripe oranges from Andhra would all arrive in his family’s shop, competing for space in the tiny storeroom. The Vijayanagara  empire had united disparate parts of South India, and brought about a cultural and economic revival hitherto unheard of. Yet, life in this city went about, the footfalls of history bringing about small but relevant changes in the life of the residents.

Every morning, Vedu would walk to his place of work, along the messy, crowded lanes of the city that had once been the capital of the mighty Chola empire. And on his way to the governor’s quarters, where his shop was, he would cross through an ornate but ancient temple of Shiva. He would enter the sanctum of the Lord, and worship with him through the hymns sung by saints of old in his native tongue Tamil and pick up the sacred ash from the cup of the priest and smear it across his forehead after uttering a mantra received from his family preceptor. The cosmopolitan governors of Vijayanagara patronised many new forms of worship, bridging diverse traditions, but Vedu found inner peace with the way of his ancestors. After the day’s trade, he would again pass over a little stream, and sit under the shade of the Banyan tree in the outer walks of the temple. There amidst the smell of incense, he would sit next to the statue of Vinayaka and dwell upon the day's work, and the mysteries of the universe before returning home for his evening meal of rice and vegetables.

The merchants of Thanjavur prided themselves in their honesty and saw their profession not only as means of living, but as a way of self-actualisation- walking the path of Dharma as Vedu’s mother would say. Every morning, Vedu would take firm stock of the number of fruits and their freshness - too raw and a fruit would be kept aside; too ripe and it would be fed to the cow. Vedu’s lone employee Chandru, was paid well, but was endeared to his master due to his forbearing and honest nature.

And so many summers passed, until once in the month of Margazhi, holy to Shiva, the city found itself in dire need of mangoes. Drought in the Krishna and Tungabhadra rivers had brought upon ruin to the farms of the Deccan, but the people of Vijayanagara, used to richness and quantity could not control their passion for the sublime fruit. Tensions soared and the public wailed before the news reached the powers that be. And so it came to pass, that the town crier carried out the local Nayak’s palm leaf decree and conveyed the Lord’s order- no one without a governor’s decree may purchase mangoes. 

Upon walking to his store that day, Vedu took stock of his storeroom. One dozen of the choicest Canarese Mangoes, all piled upon each like close-knit brothers of his village, stared at him. Heaving a sigh of anxiety, he locked the door with a tiny bronze key and placed it between the folds of this garment- not even Chandru could be trusted. That year, Vedu had to turn down eager-eyed neighbours and relatives suddenly showering their favour on him - it would seem that a ban on something further stokes a further demand for it. To add to his melancholy, even his donation for the Lord’s margazhi festival was conspicuous in its lack of mangoes.

And so a week passed with the chirping of birds, perched above sacrificial fires lighted in Shiva’s name, until Chandru ran to his chamber one day with bated breath. “The royal guard has come to the market sire. They wish to procure all the mangoes stocked in town.” And so Vedu, in his heart of hearts, prayed to the Lord, hoping for an end to his problems. 

A few moments later, a rather tall man, clad in orange, sporting messy locks and a beard, and smeared with ash crossed the streets. Vedu, venerated him with a namaskara, but was surprised when the man reciprocated by walking inside Vedu’s room. Standing up from chair, Vedu once more saluted him. The man spoke in a dialect of TamiI that was unfamiliar in these parts, his voice had a rhythmic, enchanting character to it. “Praise be to Shiva. Son, I come from the parts south of here, from the holy city of Madura, and I am on pilgrimage to the sites holy to Shiva, across the Gangetic plains and the Himalayan reaches. I come to you hoping you will feed me, not as your guest, but as a servant of the Lord we both hold dear.”

Being of devotional constitution and owing to his inability to refuse a devotee of his Lord, Vedu promised that he will not only provide the saint food, but provide equal measure for his north ward journey. Evidently pleased, the saint raised his hand in a posture of blessing, and said, “Praise be to Shiva. My son, I do not wish to trouble you. Being vowed to the Lord, I only partake fruits after devotional worship and all I shall ask of you is a mango. I will go now to the temple of the Lord, and return by evening.” 

Vedu was shocked to hear the saint. Had the man for his whole shop he would have given it, and yet he couldn’t yield a pair of mangoes. He found himself dumbstruck and unable to move. And as the man left, all he could do was to wish for a solution to his problems. It was then that the head of the royal guard walked in. Twirling his moustache, the man asked to be shown the store of mangoes. Chandru, suddenly enquired about the fairness of such an exercise. The man replied in his booming voice,“ These mangoes are not for us, and not even for the Governor. His own wife eats only one mango a day. The Nayak has visitors from the court of the capital, Hampi. It is for their feast that we procure these fruits.” 

Asking the guard to follow his lead to the store room and showing him his stock of mangoes, Vedu asked Chandru to load the ripe Canarese mangoes onto the royal cart outside. “The governor will reward you handsomely for your mangoes”, said the guard as he walked out. After the cart left the street, Chandru turned to his master and asked, “Lord, there were only ten mangoes in the bag which I loaded onto the cart, where are the other two?”

Vedu replied by opening the folds of his cloth as if he was a child displaying his secret shame. The same folds that held the key to the store now held the two fine mangoes, reminiscent of fruits in royal durbars. Chandru was as shocked as moved by his master’s devotion. After a pause he said, “ I am deeply moved by your commitment to the higher truth, the one truth perched above all else, yet I am worried your family honour will be spoiled”. “I am fortunate to have one such as you working for me, do not worry for I shall stay here till evening, and feed the man myself”.

The next few hours were painfully slow, whenever a customer walked in, Chandru would deal with extreme caution and if a guard happened to pass by Vedu’s heart would skip a beat, being so close to the mangoes he held dear. As evening approached, Vedu grew anxious, nights were long in the month of Margazhi and he was worried about his secret being discovered, losing his livelihood and his family stripped of their name. Looking down at his breast, he became aware of a sudden soft movement inside the cloth, as if a new life was present between his chest. Noticing closely, he saw a small brown creature, a worm tunneling its way into the smaller of the two mangoes. 

It was now that he was truly distraught and broke down at the thought of his Lord. “ I have sacrificed my honour and my profits for Thee, yet you plague my way with obstacles”. Crying profusely, he opened his shawl and thought about throwing the mangoes away and returning home. Having fed the first one his cow standing in the courtyard behind, Vedu was about to do the same to the second, when Chandru came and said that the saintly devotee had returned and asked for his meal. Vedu prostrated at his feet, and said that he had but one mango, for there was a drought, a shortage, a decree, a banquet and a worm. Unperturbed and stopping his chain of thoughts, the saint said, “Praise be to Shiva. My son, at Madura, even the Goddess Meenakshi couldn’t feed the Lord’s companions at their wedding. I shall not trouble you for any food, for the holy water I have partaken shall carry me forth. Your devotion will always inspire me. Give the last mango to your wife as prasad”. Smearing Vedu’s face with some ash, the saint turned around humming a soothing hymn. And before Vedu could recover, the saint turned left the street, his figure turning smaller and smaller, with a black street dog joining him around the corner just near the Bel tree. Vedu closed his shop that day with a heavy heart. 

Seeing Chandru off with his usual stipend, Vedu turned towards his home. Feeling unworthy to even enter the Lord’s temple, he sat down under the shade of his usual banyan tree. The sounds of music, and the chants for the Lord’s Margazhi festival drove him to a trance that numbed his sorrow. At one abrupt moment, he felt a sudden warmth and loss of weight near his chest. Waking up from his emotional flux and fearing that the fruit had fallen down and that he would be caught, Vedu opened his cloth, silently uttering his preceptor’s mantra. What he found was not a mango, but a gem with a reddish hue. Mysterious are the ways of the world, and further so are the plays of the divine. 

Very few textbooks record stories such as these, but a visit to rural India today will tell us that they are very much alive in the kitchens of small houses and the halls of village temples. Often-times we come across two stories that make new sense when read together. Centuries later, English visitors to the snow-clad reaches of Gharwal Himalayas, would stand in awe of a bountiful mango tree, the fruits of which would bless one with the gift of children. Lore had it that, once the Rani had a dream where Shiva promised her long cherished desire - a sire to rule to propagate her line. That morning an uncut ruby was found missing in the treasury, and on its pedestal a ripe Deccani Mango was found - leaf, stem and all.

Loosely structured on the stories of the Periya-Puranam, outlining the lives of the Nayanars, devotees of Shiva who thrived in Tamil lands between the 7th and 9th centuries, and the melancholic countryside  stories of Tagore