Lessons from a Mango Tree
I grew up in Chembur, Mumbai in a rented one room and kitchen apartment, with my parents and two sisters. My extracurricular life revolved around a giant rectangular play area (we called it “the compound”) surrounded by buildings on three sides and a street up front. There was a huge mango tree smack in the middle of the compound, which belonged to the landlord. Each summer the tree would be laden with delicious green mangoes. Not unlike a plot from Mission Impossible, we did our groundwork. We timed the landlord’s afternoon siesta, and struck with unpredictable frequency. The rocks and stones we threw at the stems to dislodge the mangoes would rustle the leaves, but we managed to get away before he could find his bearings.
On one occasion my Dad caught us in the act. “I know we are not rich, son” he said, “but we can afford to buy mangoes from the market.” I wanted to tell him that there was a special thrill in breaking open stolen mangoes with rocks and squinting at the brisk sourness while eating the mud stained pieces with salt.
The moral of the story is not that stolen mangoes taste great. It is that people don’t throw rocks at trees that don’t bear any fruit. When you start to make a mark, just with your conviction and words , even before any manifestation of success, people will start to criticize and make fun of you.
Soon after I discovered that I had a singing voice and could perform in public, I took part in a contest. This wasn’t The Voice or anything like that. No sound tracks, no musicians, just a microphone. Another kid that went ahead of me picked the same song I was going to sing. I made a judgment call – a poor one, to change my song at the last minute. Wrong scale, too high, lost my voice on stage.
For an 8 year old, the embarrassment can seem like the end of the world. I cried the whole night. The next day my father talked to me. When I told him that all my friends were laughing at me, he grabbed me gently by my shoulders and asked me this – “All your friends? All? Are you sure?”
I can still remember thinking about this. I realized then that the ones who took part in the singing contest had not mocked me. They had patted me on the back, and encouraged me. The ones who ridiculed me were the kids in the audience who did not have the guts to get up on stage and at least try.