The Wonderful Mango Fruit

On the banks of the Kaveri, in Tiruvidaimarudur under King Chakraditya, lived a poor Brahman and his wife. Childless, they raised a young parrot as tenderly as a son. One morning the parrot sat on the roof in the sun when a flock flew past talking of mangoes. Asked what was special, they said that beyond the seven oceans grew a great mango tree whose fruit gave perpetual youth to whoever ate, however old. The house parrot begged leave to go; they agreed, and all flew on. At the tree everyone ate—except the Brahman’s bird, who thought, “I am young, but my foster parents are old. I will carry a fruit to them so that they may bloom again.”

That evening he brought a mango and explained its power. The Brahman thought to himself, “I am only a beggar. What does it matter whether I stay young forever or die tonight? Our king is good and charitable. If such a man ate this and renewed his youth, all mankind would gain.” So he took the fruit to the palace, told how he got it, and presented it. The king rewarded him richly and sent him away, then thought, “Shall I keep everlasting youth to myself? What joy is there unless my friends and subjects share it? Better to plant the mango; the tree will bear many fruits of the same virtue, and everyone may eat with me.”

He gave it to the gardener, who planted it in the royal presence. In time a fine tree rose; in spring it budded, blossomed, and bore. On an auspicious day the king cut one fruit and gave it to his ninety-year-old domestic chaplain to renew youth. The priest tasted—and fell dead. Astonished and grieved, the king faced worse when the priest’s wife begged leave to perform sati on the same pyre. He allowed it and himself oversaw the cremation.

Then he summoned the poor Brahman and demanded how he dared present poison. The Brahman said his foster parrot had brought the fruit and sworn to its wonder; he had never suspected poison. Still the king felt the priest’s death must be avenged. Ministers called their proposed punishment light: putting out the Brahman’s left eye. It was done. At home his wife asked why. “The parrot we fostered so tenderly caused this,” he said. They wrongly blamed the bird and resolved to break its neck.

Hearing this, the parrot spoke. “Everyone is rewarded or punished for the acts of a previous life,” it said. “I brought the fruit in good faith, but my former sins twisted its effect. Kill me and bury me in a pit with a little milk, and when the funeral is done, go on a pilgrimage to Banaras to cleanse your own sins.” So they killed and buried their pet as directed, then set out grief-stricken for the Holy City.

Meanwhile the king ordered guards on the poison-tree; soon all the city knew its fruit was deadly. An old washerwoman, weary of quarrels with her daughter-in-law, left home threatening to eat of it and die.

The parrot who had died for bringing the mango was reborn green and waited a chance to prove the tree harmless. Seeing the old woman approach resolved on death, he plucked a fruit with his beak and dropped it before her. Glad that fate approved, she ate it—and instead of dying became young and blooming. Neighbours who had watched a woman past sixty leave were astonished to see a handsome girl of sixteen return, transformed by the supposed poison tree.

News reached the king. To test further he had another fruit given to a goldsmith over ninety, jailed for embezzling gold meant for palace ornaments. The goldsmith ate and became sixteen. Convinced at last the mango conferred youth, not death, the king still wondered how the old priest had died.

By mere accident: a huge serpent had slept on a branch with its head over one fruit; venom dripped on the rind. The gardener, ignorant, had fetched that very mango for the priest.

Proclamation went out that all who wished might eat; everyone who did grew young. But Chakraditya’s heart burned for his treatment of the Brahman, now returned from Banaras with his wife. The king sent for him, confessed the mistake, and gave him fruit. The aged man grew young, and his eye was restored. Yet the greatest loss—the parrot who had fetched fruit from beyond the seven oceans—remained irreparable.

Where this story comes from

“The Wonderful Mango Fruit” is told within the fourth part of the Lost Camel romance in Tales of the Sun (1890) by Mrs. Howard Kingscote and Pandit Natesa Sastri. It is set at Tiruvidaimarudur on the Kaveri.

The book’s notes compare it with the Persian Tuti Nama of Nakhshabi, where a parrot fetches fruit from the Tree of Life and a black snake poisons it, and with the Canarese Katha Manjari, where a magpie brings mango seed from heaven. The old priest’s death, his widow’s sati and the parrot’s death are told briefly, as in the source.

Read the original: Kingscote and Natesa Sastri, Tales of the Sun, 1890 (Project Gutenberg #37002)

Reading guidance: For mature readers. The story includes deliberate blinding, the killing of a pet, a widow’s death on a funeral pyre and an older woman’s attempt to end her life. Magical rejuvenation is a story event, not a response to real distress.

A closer reading

Generosity moves the fruit from bird to family to king, but blame travels backward when the priest dies. None of those givers knows about the contaminated fruit. The king’s wish to share a benefit is admirable; his refusal to investigate an unexpected death turns that generous plan into a chain of punishments.

The parrot blames its own former-life actions, yet the narrator later gives an immediate cause: venom falls on one fruit by accident. Its speech belongs to the tale’s religious framework and should not be used to blame people for injuries or mistreatment. The king and couple still make choices for which they are responsible.

The ending calls the bird’s loss irreparable although it has already described the bird as reborn. That tension is present in the source. Rebirth helps expose the mistake, but no return to its foster home is narrated. The priest and widow also remain dead, so the restoration of the Brahman’s sight does not repair every consequence.

Try this with the story

Draw two chains: who passes on the fruit, and who is blamed after the death. Mark where each person stops checking what happened. At the end, list separately what is restored, what is revealed and what the story never restores.

Talk about it

• Why did the parrot carry the fruit home instead of eating it himself?
• The king punished the Brahman before finding out the truth. What should he have done instead?
• Why do you think the story ends by saying the parrot’s loss could never be repaired?

Related stories

• The Poisoned Food — the next part of the romance, where snake poison causes another false accusation
• The Three Calamities — an earlier part of the cycle in which a minister saves a king from poison
• The Lost Camel — the opening of the romance, a puzzle about clues on a dusty road