🍒The Litchi That Missed the Flight

Two days ago, I returned to my native place, Patna. As part of my morning routine, I decided to go for a walk in the nearby park.

On my way there, I noticed something delightful—street vendors selling heaps of fresh litchis. Just the sight of those juicy red fruits stirred a wave of nostalgia within me.

Litchis have always been my favorite fruit, and if they’re from Muzaffarpur—the pride of Bihar—then the craving becomes irresistible! I bought a bunch and rushed back home.

As I sat down to enjoy the luscious sweetness of the Muzaffarpur litchis, a memory from my professional life, now decades old, came rushing back. Even today, it never fails to bring a smile to my face.

It’s true that while working, we gather many memories, both good and bad. They often come back to us like old songs from a playlist on shuffle.

Now that I’m retired, I see the value in clearing not just our homes, but also our minds. Why not write these memories down? Why not share them with friends who might relate, laugh, or enjoy reminiscing?

So here I am, penning one such moment—a small incident with a big flavor, quite literally.

This story goes back almost 30 years, but it feels like it happened just yesterday. At the time, I was posted at Ashok Rajpath branch in Patna. Not far from there was our regional office, and visits to and from there were frequent.

Our Regional Manager, Mr. Agrawal Saheb, was a senior officer I deeply respected and shared a cordial relationship with.

One day, he called me to his office. Naturally, I reported to his chamber that very evening. He welcomed me warmly, offered me tea, and then came straight to the point.

“I’ve spoken to your friend Mr. Singh from Muzaffarpur branch,” he said with a smile. “I’ve asked him to send me a box of Muzaffarpur litchis—freshly picked from the orchard.

He’ll be sending them to you by tomorrow morning. My flight is at 1 PM, so I want you to bring that box to the airport. I’ll take it with me to Delhi.”

I nodded enthusiastically. After all, serving a senior officer was both a duty and a privilege. Besides, who wouldn’t want to do a favor involving delicious litchis?

The next day was a Sunday. I dressed neatly in my best suit and waited eagerly for the box of litchis to arrive. Hours passed. By noon, I began to feel uneasy. The litchis hadn’t arrived yet.

The clock struck 12:30. Still nothing. I had no way to communicate with anyone—the age of mobile phones hadn’t arrived, and my house didn’t even have a landline.

My heart began to race. I imagined Mr. Agrawal waiting at the airport, checking his watch, wondering where I was. Maybe even silently cursing me. I sat helplessly, fully dressed, watching the minutes crawl by.

And then, just past 1 o’clock, the doorbell rang.

I opened the door with bated breath. There stood the office attendant from Muzaffarpur branch, holding a box—yes, the famed litchis had arrived! But it was too late. The flight had surely taken off by now.

In a mix of frustration and guilt, I asked, “Why are you so late? His flight must have left already!”

The poor man, equally upset, replied, “Sir, the jeep broke down on the way. There was no way to inform you.”

What was I supposed to do now? He handed me the box and left. And there I was—with a box full of the most fragrant litchis, which I couldn’t dare touch.

It was a strange night. The sweet aroma filled the entire room, but we didn’t have the courage to even open the box. It felt like a scene from Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham—a bittersweet mix of honor and helplessness.

The next day at the branch, I received a call from Mr. Singh, the Muzaffarpur Branch Manager. The moment I picked up the phone, he asked, “Did you give the box to Sir at the airport?”

I paused and replied, “What box?”

He sighed, “Come on, I’m talking about the litchis! They were hand-picked from the orchard just yesterday morning!”

When I explained the whole situation to him, he groaned and asked, “So what did you do with the litchis?”

I hesitantly replied, “They’re still packed in the box, untouched.”

He shouted, half-laughing and half-exasperated, “Open the box immediately! They’ll get spoiled!”

“And then?” I asked.

“What do you mean ‘and then’? Eat them! What else can you do?”

And so, we did just that. My family and I feasted on the delicious litchis. We even shared them with our neighbors. Everyone relished the treat.

And as I sat back, wiping juice from my chin, a timeless saying came to mind:

“Every grain has the name of the one destined to eat it.”
Or in this case, every litchi!

What do you think?

Categories: मेरे संस्मरण

Tags: #Family, #happiness, #Life, #Litchi, #Memoire, #Story, books, fiction, writing