The Extraordinary Mango

On the road toward Kāśī, Shounaka found a ripe mango beneath a roadside tree.

“If there is only one fruit and many hungry people,” he asked, “whose share is it?”

Manisiddhu answered with a tale about Shuddhamati, a student in Kāśī. Shuddhamati loved learning, but his finest gift was explaining difficult ideas in simple words.

One day his teacher received a fragrant golden mango from a distant orchard.

“An extraordinary fruit should go to my most deserving student,” the teacher said. “Tell me its best use.”

One student suggested presenting it to a king. Another wanted to preserve it in a fine bowl. A third said they should save only the seed.

Shuddhamati quietly washed the mango and cut it. He gave the first slice to the gardener who tended the school courtyard, another to the woman who kept the kitchen fire, and equal pieces to the youngest students. He kept one small piece for himself.

“Why did you divide your prize?” the teacher asked.

“If the taste belongs only to me, it ends by sunset,” Shuddhamati replied. “If we plant the seed and share the memory, the gift may keep growing.”

Together they planted the stone in a sunny corner. The gardener taught the children when to water it. The smallest students took turns guarding the tender shoot.

Seasons passed. A broad mango tree rose beside the school. Children read in its shade. Its first basket of fruit was divided among the kitchen, the students, and travellers resting at the gate.

“So the mango was extraordinary because it multiplied?” Shounaka asked.

“Because people chose to make its goodness multiply,” said Manisiddhu.

Shounaka washed the mango he had found and shared it with his companion. They did not throw away the stone. At the next village, they gave it to a gardener who promised to find it a patch of sunlight.