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I visit a mango orchard in Uttar Pradesh--my birth state.  Almost all, but a few trees had been harvested. They stood still, exhausted but happy after a bumper crop. The few which still bore the almost ripe chausa mango appear like a woman in full term. The fragrance of the leaves, the scent of the ripeness still on trees reach me with the light breeze caressing my being, all of it intoxicating. I am transported to my childhood home in Kanpur. We lived in a huge 3-storey house built by my grandfather. He had a green thumb and an immense love for fruiting trees. One because he loved fruits and two because he loved to light a fire each night during winter months, in our cozy fireplace and needed firewood. Our house had a mini    orchard. There were 5 mango trees, 4 lemon trees of different varieties, 1 pomegranate, 1  sweet lime, a chandan tree and a neem tree. A bougainvillea shrub, 2 gulmohar trees, 2 ashoka trees, chameli, kamini , lilies, roses, and bela . . .. Once in a whil