My generation has climbed many a mango and guava tree. Scraped knees and elbows were easily forgotten while biting into tangy, raw guavas hastily wiped on dusty tee shirts and frocks. A sprinkling of salt on the hard, sour flesh gave us puckered lips amid noisy smacking of tongues. Sometimes if we got lucky, our haul would include more ripe fruits than raw ones. White or red inside with crunchy…
