In the province of Uttar Pradesh in northern India lies the small town of Malihabad, where Kaleem Ullah Khan lives.
He is no ordinary person. Born in 1940 to a father of eleven children who ran a tree nursery, his connection with mangoes runs deep. After he failed seventh grade for the second time, he packed some mangoes in a basket and immediately took a train to his grandmother’s village some 200 miles away.
“I stayed there 17 days so I don’t get a beating,” he said with a smile. “When I came back, I quietly joined my father at the nursery. He didn’t say anything.
After some early experimenting led to a dried-up tree, he was left scarred and with many unanswered questions. But he had no time to obsess over this failure as he had more pressing work – to raise money to support his family. It was only in the 1980s that he could return to his passion – mangoes.
Long before Mr. Khan, now 82, was born, the 120-year-old tree he has grown so close to was planted with its original variety of “Asl-e-mukarar.” This refers to a local poetic tradition where listeners would shout “Mukarar, mukarar” to request a re-read of their favorite line.
Since then, he has grafted nearly 300 different varieties of mangoes onto the tree, “each varying in color, size, taste, density and aroma,” according to Hari Kumar and Mujib Mashal of the New York Times.
Soon, as his fame spread, it attracted the attention of then-president K.R. Narayanan in New Delhi, who wanted a tree for his presidential palace. After Mr. Khan heard this news, he was excited but also nervous.
“For three days, I was restless — how do I shift it? This is a delicate thing,” Mr. Khan remembered thinking. “Just like when a mother is putting a baby to sleep, feeding it milk, and the baby falls asleep and the bottle is removed and the baby doesn’t even notice — we have to remove the tree like this.” In other words, he needed to find a way to remove the tree without disturbing it and causing all sorts of problems.
In August of 1999, an elated Mr. Khan watched on as the president and other dignitaries shoveled dirt to plant the tree, grafted with 54 different varieties of mangoes.
Since then, he has won many more awards, including the Padma Shri, one of the highest civilian honors in India. Even so, he remains a humble man.
He seems content with the fact that he is nearing the end of his lifetime. As a devout Muslim, he believes that he will go to the afterlife. “My real home is there,” he said. “And it is written — that all the fruits of the world are there.”
“I don’t want people to be bothered by having to come visit,” he said, referring to his upcoming funeral. He even keeps the planks for his coffin nearby, so when the time comes, he can be buried quickly.
Mr. Khan’s connection with the tree is intimate. “I am not a scientist — I am just a servant of this tree,” he once said to K.R. Narayanan, the former president, after he made a joke about Mr. Khan being a scientist without an education.
Despite this, scientists are skeptical of Mr. Khan’s claim of developing hundreds of new varieties. A new variety requires years of hard work before being certified – scientists have called his mangoes “new hybrids,” a distinction which enflames Mr. Khan.
India, the second-largest country in the world, is the largest producer of mangoes, which are mostly consumed domestically. Uttar Pradesh, and particularly Malihabad, produces a large number of mangoes within the country. People often argue over which region of India has the most delicious varieties and how it should be eaten, showing the passion Indians have for the fruit.
Mr. Khan sees the infinite possibilities of mangoes. Even after a lifetime dedicated to mangoes, he acknowledges that there is still a lot more to discover.
Original article: https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/01/world/asia/india-mango-kaleem-ullah-khan.html
He is no ordinary person. Born in 1940 to a father of eleven children who ran a tree nursery, his connection with mangoes runs deep. After he failed seventh grade for the second time, he packed some mangoes in a basket and immediately took a train to his grandmother’s village some 200 miles away.
“I stayed there 17 days so I don’t get a beating,” he said with a smile. “When I came back, I quietly joined my father at the nursery. He didn’t say anything.
After some early experimenting led to a dried-up tree, he was left scarred and with many unanswered questions. But he had no time to obsess over this failure as he had more pressing work – to raise money to support his family. It was only in the 1980s that he could return to his passion – mangoes.
Long before Mr. Khan, now 82, was born, the 120-year-old tree he has grown so close to was planted with its original variety of “Asl-e-mukarar.” This refers to a local poetic tradition where listeners would shout “Mukarar, mukarar” to request a re-read of their favorite line.
Since then, he has grafted nearly 300 different varieties of mangoes onto the tree, “each varying in color, size, taste, density and aroma,” according to Hari Kumar and Mujib Mashal of the New York Times.
Soon, as his fame spread, it attracted the attention of then-president K.R. Narayanan in New Delhi, who wanted a tree for his presidential palace. After Mr. Khan heard this news, he was excited but also nervous.
“For three days, I was restless — how do I shift it? This is a delicate thing,” Mr. Khan remembered thinking. “Just like when a mother is putting a baby to sleep, feeding it milk, and the baby falls asleep and the bottle is removed and the baby doesn’t even notice — we have to remove the tree like this.” In other words, he needed to find a way to remove the tree without disturbing it and causing all sorts of problems.
In August of 1999, an elated Mr. Khan watched on as the president and other dignitaries shoveled dirt to plant the tree, grafted with 54 different varieties of mangoes.
Since then, he has won many more awards, including the Padma Shri, one of the highest civilian honors in India. Even so, he remains a humble man.
He seems content with the fact that he is nearing the end of his lifetime. As a devout Muslim, he believes that he will go to the afterlife. “My real home is there,” he said. “And it is written — that all the fruits of the world are there.”
“I don’t want people to be bothered by having to come visit,” he said, referring to his upcoming funeral. He even keeps the planks for his coffin nearby, so when the time comes, he can be buried quickly.
Mr. Khan’s connection with the tree is intimate. “I am not a scientist — I am just a servant of this tree,” he once said to K.R. Narayanan, the former president, after he made a joke about Mr. Khan being a scientist without an education.
Despite this, scientists are skeptical of Mr. Khan’s claim of developing hundreds of new varieties. A new variety requires years of hard work before being certified – scientists have called his mangoes “new hybrids,” a distinction which enflames Mr. Khan.
India, the second-largest country in the world, is the largest producer of mangoes, which are mostly consumed domestically. Uttar Pradesh, and particularly Malihabad, produces a large number of mangoes within the country. People often argue over which region of India has the most delicious varieties and how it should be eaten, showing the passion Indians have for the fruit.
Mr. Khan sees the infinite possibilities of mangoes. Even after a lifetime dedicated to mangoes, he acknowledges that there is still a lot more to discover.
Original article: https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/01/world/asia/india-mango-kaleem-ullah-khan.html
