One proclaimed, "For my money the Kalmi is the most delicious of all." To the Australian he said, "It is a small sucking mango. You rub it firmly between the hands to break the fibers, then you cut off the top, like a boiled egg, and simply suck out the contents. The taste is simply exquisite."

"You can eat them in the office," said a colleague, "And while I am certainly very partial to the Kalmi I still say that the Langra is the mango of the true aficionado. I know Langra freaks who go back each year to buy their fruit from particular gardens..."

"From particular parts of particular gardens," added a colleague.

"From particular trees in particular parts of particular gardens," said the other.

One said, "My grandfather once planted a Langra tree but, before he could eat the fruit, he had to marry it to another tree. A tamarind. Custom decreed it."

"I know about that custom," said a colleague. "The jasmine was also considered a suitable bride for a mango."

"The marriage was celebrated with a great feast. Two hundred people came. My grandmother had to sell her jewelry to pay for it. But it was a fantastic party and it meant that, when the tree finally bore fruit, it could be relished to the full."

"In Jubulpore," said one, "a man who made a tank dared not drink from its waters until he had married it to a banana tree planted specially on the bank."

The Australian, visibly steeling himself, began talking about politics. His companions sighed softly. I called for my bill and left.