f you grew up in Maharashtra like me, you know that the start of summer meant one thing — kairis (raw mangoes) everywhere. Summer vacations were filled with the thrill of roaming the neighbourhood, hunting for the best kairis. We’d bite into them with the sticky sap still on, the bitter peel hitting first, until that sharp sour-sweet taste kicked in. And then we’d keep eating until our tastebuds surrendered.