<p>My late father, a retired high school teacher, was abstemious in taking food. As a type 2 diabetic, he strictly observed the diet chart. Besides, he would maintain a regular walking habit. He totally gave up sugar, called the white poison. Above all, he was a teetotaller and non-smoker. Naturally, everything was all right for a diabetic patient.</p>.<p>His doctor, an alumnus of the same school where my father taught for over three decades, took special care of him and was pleased with his adherence to treatment; my father’s sugar level would stay in normal ranges for a considerable part of the year, and so prescription medicines remained the same. </p>.<p>But come summer, the situation would change. My calorie-conscious father’s discipline would waver, and his diabetes would deviate. He would often suffer from hyperglycaemia; his medicine dosages underwent frequent recalibration to keep the sugar levels under control. All because he couldn’t resist the allure of various mango varieties that came with summer. </p>.<p>My father allowed none from the family to set foot in the fruit markets; it was his forte. He would segregate the mango season into four stages from early summer to mid-monsoon as per the good harvest and availability of a variety of mangoes in the market. In the early summer, his bag would overflow with Baganpalli, Totapuri, and Payri mangoes. As the season progressed, he would indulge in juicy Dasheri, Chausa, and Amrapali. Later, he would prefer green-skinned Langra and Himsagar, and finally, Gulab Khas, Sundari, Lakshmanbhog, and Mallika or pure green Fazli. If my elder brother visited from Delhi during summers, his luggage would surely be heavier with a small crate of Alphonso, considered the king of mangoes for its sweetness and aroma. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Thus, in my father’s delectable journey in the realm of the mango kingdom, my father’s love for the king would take precedence over his diabetic concerns. Naturally, in every May, June and July, his sugar level would soar up exorbitantly. During his monthly routine check-ups in those months, he would appear before the doctor like an erring student. </p>.<p class="bodytext">The doctor would advise my father to limit his mango intake to 50-70 grams per day, but he would promise to comply only to break his promise the following summer. Anticipating the excessive calorie intake, the doctor would increase the medication dosage as a precautionary measure.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Despite the challenges, my father savoured the mango season to the fullest, and his joy was palpable. His love for mangoes was a delightful aspect of his personality, and it brought him immense pleasure every summer.</p>
<p>My late father, a retired high school teacher, was abstemious in taking food. As a type 2 diabetic, he strictly observed the diet chart. Besides, he would maintain a regular walking habit. He totally gave up sugar, called the white poison. Above all, he was a teetotaller and non-smoker. Naturally, everything was all right for a diabetic patient.</p>.<p>His doctor, an alumnus of the same school where my father taught for over three decades, took special care of him and was pleased with his adherence to treatment; my father’s sugar level would stay in normal ranges for a considerable part of the year, and so prescription medicines remained the same. </p>.<p>But come summer, the situation would change. My calorie-conscious father’s discipline would waver, and his diabetes would deviate. He would often suffer from hyperglycaemia; his medicine dosages underwent frequent recalibration to keep the sugar levels under control. All because he couldn’t resist the allure of various mango varieties that came with summer. </p>.<p>My father allowed none from the family to set foot in the fruit markets; it was his forte. He would segregate the mango season into four stages from early summer to mid-monsoon as per the good harvest and availability of a variety of mangoes in the market. In the early summer, his bag would overflow with Baganpalli, Totapuri, and Payri mangoes. As the season progressed, he would indulge in juicy Dasheri, Chausa, and Amrapali. Later, he would prefer green-skinned Langra and Himsagar, and finally, Gulab Khas, Sundari, Lakshmanbhog, and Mallika or pure green Fazli. If my elder brother visited from Delhi during summers, his luggage would surely be heavier with a small crate of Alphonso, considered the king of mangoes for its sweetness and aroma. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Thus, in my father’s delectable journey in the realm of the mango kingdom, my father’s love for the king would take precedence over his diabetic concerns. Naturally, in every May, June and July, his sugar level would soar up exorbitantly. During his monthly routine check-ups in those months, he would appear before the doctor like an erring student. </p>.<p class="bodytext">The doctor would advise my father to limit his mango intake to 50-70 grams per day, but he would promise to comply only to break his promise the following summer. Anticipating the excessive calorie intake, the doctor would increase the medication dosage as a precautionary measure.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Despite the challenges, my father savoured the mango season to the fullest, and his joy was palpable. His love for mangoes was a delightful aspect of his personality, and it brought him immense pleasure every summer.</p>