Mangos, mending and black marks

Nearly half the world's mangos are grown in India- 13.5 tonnes a year. It's their national fruit and from April to around September it's mango season. This is an exciting time for me and I celebrate by ceremoniously eating one mango each day after my lunch. They are sumptious, so juicy and I can buy 5 for 40 pence, or 30 rupees, which makes up for the huge prices they make you pay in England. My thinking is if I gorge now, I'll be able to resist the urge to splash out back home.

There are lots of different varieties of mangos. There are big yellow juicy ones which are very fruity, and there are green mangos which aren't ripe yet and are used more like a vegetable in the most delicious curry. My new mum cooked it last night- strips of mango in a thick, syrupy tomato sauce (see pic below).

In India the motto is 'if it breaks, someone can fix it'. Fridges, TVs, dentures, jewellery, even flip flops are all given a new lease of life. There's a flip flop mender in Kishanger who has a selection of almost matching flip flop parts to fix your comfiest footwear. My boss' slippers (that's what they call them here) below are a shining example of the admirable make do and mend mentality.

Yesterday someone didn't put the lid on my water bottle on properly, so I put it in my bag where it proceeded to leak all over my treasured moleskin diary and my dear friend mr mobile phone. Now that the moleskin has dried out it looks tatty in an intellectual way which I can live with, but the phone is in a bad state, deciding to unhelpfully display a screen of dots. So, after showing my family everyone is getting involved dishing out advice. I'm to dry it in the sun for a few hours, then if it's not working there's a man in Dudu who might be able to fix it. If he can't then I think my sister wants the speaker from it to use in her phone and I'll buy a new one from a nearby village which apparently features a selection of mobile phone shops.

Yesterday was also the day that I collected my new Rajasthani dresses from the tailor, and caused a bit of a storm around the house. Everyone wanted a glimpse and found it highly amusing. They say I look like an Indian now and do a little dance in front of me to show their appreciation for the new look. My new grandfather, who, it has to be said is slightly mad, asked which village I was from, thinking I was a stranger from a neighbouring community.

The outfit is going to take some getting used to, mainly the amount of material I have to carry around and try not to trip over. My sister said I was looking very beautiful but would get ill if people kept looking at me, so she put a black dot of wood ash behind my left ear, and one on top of my bindi to protect me (see photo). She says her elder sister Ratan got sick after her engagement party because she was looking so pretty and everyone was staring at her. I'm finding India full of these endearing quirks which you just don't find out until you spend time with the locals.