The Mangoes Fell in a Storm暴风雨中掉落的芒果

I love the power of a storm. It is oneof the most amazing shows of nature andwhen it passes， it leaves behind a light thatis nothing short of magnificent1. That waswhy I went for a walk after the storm.

In the middle of my walk， I saw twoboys and a little girl bouncing2 across thestreet like rabbits， dragging3 a bag behindthem. I didn’t know what the matter wasand didn’t care to know. I kept walking andwatched the kids disappear into a lane4.

A few minutes later， I saw thechildren again. They were collectingmangoes that had fallen on the streetsfrom the trees in the storm. I watched thechildren as they went from one mango treeto another. One of the kids soon realizedthat I was observing5 them. He got a littlenervous for a moment but then he decidedto ignore6 me and kept picking themangoes off the street. I walked up tothem and asked，“What are you doing？”

Startled7， the two boys said nothingbut the little girl said excitedly， “We arecollecting mangoes.”

I smiled and they kept collectingthe mangoes.

Not all the mangoes were in goodshape. After all， they had fallen from thetrees onto the concrete8. The childreninspected9 each mango they found. If itwas any good， they put it in their bag; ifnot， they threw it away.

was also walking along with them，though I kept a comfortable distance10.

Time passed. I looked at their bagand realized that they had more thanenough for themselves and yet， they weresearching for more mangoes. I noticedanother strange thing—they hadn’t eateneven a single mango from the bag.

“Don’t you think you have enoughmangoes for yourselves？”I asked.

They looked at me but said nothing.After a moment， the little girl said，“Weare not collecting them for ourselves. Weare going to sell them.”

One of the boys elbowed11 her atonce. It was clear that they did not want totell their plan to me.

After a while， when the boys went alittle further to pick the mangoes， the littlegirl walked up to me slowly and told metheir secret.

“We are going to sell these mangoes sothat we can buy gift for our mother. Todayis her birthday. We spent all morningthinking about what we could give her， butwe had no answer until the storm hit. Oneof my brothers came up with the idea ofpicking up the fallen mangoes and sellingthem to get the money for her gift.”

I was impressed12 by her words.

The little girl went back to join herbrothers to inspect and pick up themangoes， and I stood there processing theinformation I had just received.

They were young children. The oldestwas probably ten years old， the younger boymaybe eight and the little girl couldn’t bemore than six. What could I do？

After some more streets and a lot moremangoes， the children decided that they hadenough and went towards the market. I hadbeen with them in their journey. So Idecided to stay a little longer and watch theculmination13 of their efforts.

I watched them as they put down thebag on the side of the road， poured thecontents14 onto the grass， divided themangoes according to their quality andsize and then put them carefully on thebag. Their prices were low.

The mangoes sold quite quicklybecause of their cheap price. Only a fewmangoes remained now—they were so fewthat people didn’t even stop to look at them.

I decided to step forward and offeredto buy them all. “Well， I need somemangoes too. How much are these？”

The little girl smiled at me and theboys said，“Eight rupees15.”

I took out a ten-rupee note and gaveit to them. They started to fumble16 intheir bag to give me change.

“Don’t worry， keep the change，”Isaid. But they refused to listen to me andgave me a two-rupee coin.

“So， have you decided what gift youwant to buy for your mother？”I asked.

The boys glared17 at their sister—ithad been their secret and she hadn’t beenable to keep it to herself.

Finally， one of the boys said，“Wehaven’t decided yet. We will count themoney and then see what we can afford.”

They poured out all their money onthe bag and counted it. It was a little overa hundred rupees. By the looks theyexchanged， it was more than they hadexpected. Then they started to discusswhat they should buy. The three of themdidn’t make any meaningful progress for along time， until the little girl found anumbrella salesman.

“Mom could use an umbrella. Shealways came home soaking18 wet，”sug -gested the little girl. Her brothers agreed.

I stood there watching them as theyran towards the umbrella salesman andstarted sifting19 through different patternsand colors， but the little girl was veryinterested in a beautiful white umbrellawith red flowers all over it.

She pointed to it and said， “I wantthat one.”

But that umbrella was out of theirprice range20. No matter how much theumbrella salesman tried to explain that toher， she wouldn’t understand. It looked asif she was about to cry.

I couldn’t just stand and watch anymore. The children were facing theumbrella salesman and had their backstowards me. I pulled out a fifty-rupee notefrom my pocket and waved it at theumbrella salesman. He glanced21 at me. Iplaced my finger on my lips and gestured22for him to be quiet too. He understoodwhat I meant. He gave them the umbrellaand took whatever money they gave him.