The Mango Tree

By Vaswati Das
The woman lifts her face to the sun, teary eyed, 
the blue July sky a neverending lake rippling in her vision.
Seven summers she has waited for you on your front porch, 
matted hair, 
sweating hot grief onto the mud floor.
 Seven summers as the mango sapling you planted together matured into the stunted young tree in the courtyard, 
fruit glowing red and gold,
left to rot right where they fall to the ground.
Seven summers as your son grew 
from an infant to a child old enough to understand abandonment 
and reel from the sickly sweet stench of loss. 
For the rest of his life, the smell of mangoes will make it hard for him to breathe.
Seven summers you lay under that very mango tree, six feet deep in the earth. 
Put to sleep by your own brother, a charming man, slithery as summer breeze.
No one knows but the mangos, ripe with the remains of your good intentions.
She wonders why you left.
She wonders if there was a seductress, a summer storm, 
some trick of the shimmering heat wave that rolled in the summer you went missing.
At her feet the mangos decay. 
The sun wavers with longing.
This poem won in Instagram Weekly Contest held by @delhipoetryslam on the theme 'Indian Summer' 


  • Beautiful word play. Keep writing !

    Jyotsna Jha
  • It gives a realistic feel while reading.
    Don’t know much about poetry but this piece is good👍

    Kallol Das
  • Loved this!!!

    Akanksha Patra
  • 🌼🌼🌼

    Nehaa kaira
  • It’s such an honor to be part of this wonderful publication. Thank you, Delhi Poetry Slam.

    Vaswati Das
  • This poem is beautiful. It has such a melancholic feel to it.

    Priyanka Kavish

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