Love needs not words
They always met under the mango tree
Almost at the same time everyday
When the birds were about to sleep
And the bats would flap their wide wings
To go towards the fruit trees laden with
fruits.
He would hold her hand in his
And look at her in the eyes.
She would look down as she was so shy.
And he would say something to her
With his eyes and she would answer
To him, always with the eyes.
Their hearts spoke about their feelings,
Their emotions, their joys, their fears
And their love which nothing could change.
They were so happy, so peaceful,
So united that they desired for nothing else.
And their love remained love, untouched,
It never grew into a relationship
Picking Mango -- Anne Stapleton
A king fell in love with Surya Bai, the daughter of Surya the sun god, but a jealous sorceress turned her into a golden lotus. The king fell in love with the flower, and the sorceress burnt the plant. From the ashes grew a mango tree. One of its fruits ripened and transformed into Surya Bai. The king married his reincarnated lover. Since then the mango has been one of the most common love symbols in Indian culture. The fruit is regarded as a transformation of Prajapati (“lord of all born beings”), the lord of procreation. Kamadeva, the god of love, had 5 flower-tipped arrows which he shot at gods and humans to inspire in them lust and love; the mango-bearing arrow was particularly potent. In the 4th century Kalidasa reported a dialogue between 2 maids:
ReplyDelete--Why, little bee, you know that the cuckoo goes crazy with delight when she sees the mango-blossom.
--Oh, has the spring really come?
--Yes, little bee. And this is the time when you too buzz about in crazy joy.
--Hold me, dear, while I stand on tiptoe and offer this blossom to Love, the divine.
--If I do, you must give me half the reward of the offering.
--That goes without saying, dear. We two are one. Oh, see! The mango-blossom hasn’t opened, but it has broken the sheath, so it is fragrant. I worship mighty Love,
O mango-twig I give to Love
As arrow for his bow,
Most sovereign of his arrows five,
Strike maiden-targets low.
(In “Ritusamharam” he wrote:
Intoxicated by the nectar of mango blossoms,
The cuckoo kisses his mate happily in love.…
The lovely mango shoot is his choicest arrow,
the swarm of bees is his bow string.)
Mumbai writer Deepanaja Pal claims "the fact the mango’s shape, the fact that there’s a seed inside and that consuming the mango requires activities like sucking has contributed to eroticizing this fruit.... Interestingly, it has been used to denote everything from breasts to vagina to testicles.”