To write on mangoes this summer is to bite the cliché and let the juice run over my laptop. However clichéd another piece on mangoes sound, the fruit continues to seduce and compels you to write anyway. Every year, an old essay in my college textbook pops up in my memories and urges me to eat the fruit in the prescribed manner: it tells you to rub the fruit gently and then knock off the end and suck at it till the pulp runs down your gullet in a steady flow.