The daily produce is laid in front of us on the ground on a wide Indian motif printed, bright and summery red square cloth. We sit on it, with our legs folded, crossed under. Perhaps a posture only Indians can relate to as relaxed. We teasingly argue about who gets which task to perform. The herbs have to be washed and dried, the cluster beans deveined, the stem plucked of the green chilies and the most sought after task - peel and cube the mangoes, so that one would enjoy sucking the last remaining flesh off the seeds after it's all done. It's messy, but none of the vivid mustard color flesh can go to waste, the king of fruits deserves that respect.