If you ask me if I prefer living in the city to living in the village, I'll tell you clearly that I don't. Don't get me wrong: I live in a city, and cities are wonderful in many ways. My brothers and I get to go to the mall, the movies, and even the waterparks. Nothing beats the feeling of living in the village, soaking up all of nature's goodness, swimming in the village pond, playing with my cousins, listening to grandma and grandpa's stories, and doing a plethora of other wonderful things. That feeling only came to me when I was in Mambazhassery village, where my Amma and Appa grew up and where I spent most of my vacations. It is somewhere no matter how much I visit I'll never get fed up of. Everytime I visit Mambazhassery I uncover more and more secrets of nature and the wonders held intact by nature. 

Just like the name says, Mambazhassery is very famous for the variety of mangoes cultivated here. In fact, it is the biggest producer of mangoes in our state, Kerala. Different mango varieties starting from the international delicacy and India's very own mango variety Alphonso, Kesar, the queen of Mangoes to the local favorites (and my favorite mangoes) Chappikkudiyan and Kilichundan mangoes are cultivated here. We have a Chappikkudiyan mango tree of our own in the compound of the Nālukettu house. But ours are way different from all the other mango trees. Ours was the oldest and most magnificent one in the whole village. We kids adored the tree so much and used to play in the compound. The place was quite cheerful with bubbly chirps of Red-whiskered bulbuls, Common mynas and Night jars. Bats, Squirrels, rats, mongooses and rat snakes are a common sight here. When we are tired after a long day of playing we would run to my house and my aunt and Amma would serve us finger licking yummy neyyappams and refreshing spicy buttermilk. I can never get that same vibe when I drink those canned drinks from the stores in the city. It was my youngest uncle who was in-charge of plucking the mangoes from the tree using a fruit picker and giving them to us kids. Grandmas and Grandpas from our neighborhood and our family liked to sit under the tree and talk about the current issues in the society and read newspapers, sipping on black teas and munching on crispy parippuvadas.

 This tree had a pivotal role in my childhood and still has. I've always wondered who planted the tree and hence became the reason for the arrival of 'Mimo' (that's what my youngest cousin named the tree) in the lives of not just me, my family and my friends but also the whole village. Grandma said it was Grandpa's great grandpa who planted the tree and that there used to be a belief that after the demise of Grandpa's great grandpa, the tree was possessed with his soul.

I had a very close friendship with two of the kids who lived beside our house. They were of my age; Dhanya and Naveen. We three were the golden trio and used to go fishing in the nearby lake. Quite the time we never really got much fish, though the time I spent with them talking, joking with them and savoring on sour and spicy mango pickles and sweet kulfis were all worth the work we do to catch the fish. Those moments are imprinted in our minds as if we'll never forget them. It's been 2 years since me and my family went to Mambazhassery because Amma and Appa were all busy with their work, and were on a tight schedule. Even though it might be a short period for others, it’s very long for me. Everytime I see a mango tree in the street, I get reminded of those good old days at Mambazhasserry. I miss Mambazhasserry so much.

 I put my pen down and cracked my knuckles, my fingers cranking from writing the journal after a long time. 

“Nithya!” I looked up to see that it was Appa calling me and I was very surprised to see him beaming at me. “Yes, appa,” 

He replied, sitting beside me, “I and your Amma have a surprise for you. We both know you and your brothers have always wanted to go back to Mambazhasserry. Guess what, our bosses were impressed with our skills and decided to give us free holidays. So, we’re going to Mambazhasserry next week,”

My face lit up with joy hearing this happy news. He smiled at me and left the room, probably off to tell my brothers the happy news. I picked up my pen and wrote the last sentence in my journal, “We’re going back to my favorite place!”