He just lay there, cotton buds in his nose, a white sheet covering his body. His peppery hair fell on his forehead. His eyes that had always glinted with mischief were pursed shut. 

My grandfather was a man of excess. His favorite mango was the chausa, a variety that needs to be sucked instead of being cut and served. Summer afternoons would be spent sitting in front of the television, on the big red dining table, sucking one mango after the other. Whenever he was at home, he would wear white kurta pajamas. Yellow ras would drip from his mouth and stain his white kurtas, turning them off white because of extensive use. His green eyes would crinkle up in a smile, as he taught my brother and me the right way  to eat a mango– you bite into the tip of the mango, ripping it to leave a part exposed. You then suck on it, taking in the juice as it sticks to every available surface of your hands. Pick that hand up and lick it down to your wrist.

Sucking mangoes is an art. 

We spent all summer doing that. Boxes full of mangoes would show up at the door, duly delivered by my Nani. The tree in her house had been churning out innumerable bottles of achaar. Every year my mother would sit on the kitchen floor with a bucket of washed green mangoes– so tart that it bit into the sides of your mouth. The mangoes would be sliced and washed again, then tossed in a mixture of salt and spices. It would then be tightened in a container full of mustard oil and left to cure for the next few weeks. The green mango would transform into a salty, tangy pickle that would then be served with parathas, mathis, rice and dal, every other sabzi, adding much needed flavor to otherwise a very simple affair. But my grandfather would suck on the tart mango pickle, everything my mother made he loved. He would beg her to make her rajma chawal, or her recipe to cook bitter gourd. Even her plain yellow dal and green chutney would be devoured with urgency.

Memory is an elusive beast. I remember nothing of the day or after when he passed. My summers were filled with happy memories of spending months with my grandparents.