
Summers in Andhra were incomplete without the daring raids on the local mango orchards. Carrying little packets of salt mixed with fierce red chili powder, we would tiptoe past the sleeping watchman. Plucking the sour 'kotha' mangoes and biting into them right under the trees was a thrill like no other. The tanginess hitting our tongues, followed by the fiery spice, perfectly mirrored the wild, untamed spirit of our childhood. Those orchards were our playgrounds, our hideouts, and the keepers of our most cherished summer secrets. Every bite of a raw mango today takes us straight back to those sun-drenched afternoons.