‘At 60, I Missed My Childhood Mangoes So Much, I Grew 11 Varieties on One Tree in My Garden’

“I loved mangoes so much that once there weren’t enough for everyone at home. I sneaked away with two, hid behind a water tank, and started eating them. My elder brother caught me, and I got so frightened that I threw one away. Looking back, I realise just how fond I was of them,” says 60-year-old Anup Kumar Bajpai, laughing at the memory.

It has been decades since that mischievous afternoon, but his love for the fruit has only grown stronger.

Today, visitors to his home in Lucknow find themselves standing beneath a mango tree unlike any other. One branch bears Kesar, another produces Mallika, while others are laden with Dussehri, Neelam, Amrapali, and several more varieties. By the end of the season, the single tree yields 11 different kinds of mangoes, each with its own flavour, colour and aroma.

The tree has become a local attraction, drawing neighbours, friends, and gardening enthusiasts every summer. But for Anup, it is much more than an unusual gardening experiment. It is a reminder of the village where he spent his childhood holidays, of his father who introduced him to dozens of mango varieties, and of a dream he waited more than three decades to pursue.

After retiring on 31 March 2026 as an additional municipal commissioner with the Uttar Pradesh municipal administration, he finally found the time to devote himself fully to the passion that had stayed with him throughout his working life.

“I always knew that after retirement, I wanted to spend my time with trees. Government service kept me busy for 32 years, but somewhere in my mind I always wanted to return to nature,” he says.

Summers that smelt of mangoes

Although Anup was born in the village of Tikariya in Uttar Pradesh, he grew up largely in cities because of his father’s transferable government job.

His father served in the prison department, retiring as a jail superintendent in 1994, while his mother looked after their large family. He grew up with five siblings, but every summer, all roads led back to his village.

Those holidays became the happiest memories of his childhood.

“All our cousins would come to the village during the summer holidays. We spent our days climbing mango trees, plucking fruit, and eating it right there in the orchard. We never thought twice about getting dirty or spending the entire day outdoors. Looking back, those were some of the happiest days of my life,” he recalls.

Life in the city was very different.

There were no lush orchards, no afternoons spent under mango trees, and no endless supply of freshly plucked fruit. As school, college, and eventually work took over, visits to the village became less frequent, but the memories never left him.

“Whenever I thought of my childhood, I thought of those mango trees, and I missed them a lot,” he says.

The love for mangoes was something he inherited from his father.

Every summer, despite his demanding job, his father made it a point to return home carrying different varieties of mangoes from the market.

“He loved mangoes so much that he would easily eat nearly a kilo every day. He never brought home just one variety. He wanted all of us to taste different kinds of mangoes. That’s how my interest also grew,” he adds.

Years later, when Anup built his own house in Lucknow, one of the first things he did was plant two Dussehri mango saplings in the garden. At the time, he had no idea that one of those trees would one day carry 11 different varieties.

A promise to his father

The idea began to materialise after his father developed kidney-related health problems about five or six years ago. Doctors advised him to cut down drastically on mangoes and limit himself to just one fruit a day.

For someone who had spent a lifetime looking forward to mango season, the restriction was difficult.

“Seeing my father, who loved mangoes more than anyone else in the family, suddenly being told he could eat only one mango a day was painful. I wanted that one mango to be the very best,” he says.

By then, the Dussehri trees he had planted in 2010 had grown into healthy, mature trees. Instead of planting several more mango trees, he wondered if one tree could offer different varieties.

He began reading about grafting and watching videos online to understand the process. But rather than attempting it on his own, he decided to seek help from experienced grafters from Malihabad, a region renowned for its mango orchards.

“I understood the concept from YouTube, but I didn’t want to take chances with a mature tree. I invited experienced gardeners from Malihabad who knew the craft much better than I did,” he admits.

Together, they began grafting different mango varieties onto the branches of the Dussehri tree.

The process demanded precision.

A healthy shoot from the desired variety was carefully attached to a branch of the existing tree. The joint was then tightly wrapped so that moisture could not seep inside and cause a fungal infection. If everything went well, new leaves would appear within a few weeks.

“Timing is very important. We usually do grafting during July and August because the weather helps the graft settle well. You also have to make sure water doesn’t enter the graft; otherwise, fungus can spoil it,” he explains.

Not every attempt succeeded. Some grafts failed, while others withered before they could grow. “In the beginning, I failed several times. One graft would survive while another wouldn’t. But I kept trying. Slowly, I understood what the tree needed, and the success rate kept improving,” says the retired officer.

Years of patience eventually turned the tree into something few people had ever seen.

One tree, 11 varieties

As the grafts began to grow, so did Anup’s excitement.

Every successful branch brought with it a different kind of mango. By the time the tree had fully established itself, it was producing 11 varieties from a single trunk — Ambika, Sensation, Dussehri, Ramkela, Mallika, Khas-ul-Khas, Surkha Verma, Husnara, Amrapali, Neelam, and Kesar.

Each ripens at its own time, stretching the mango season over several weeks.

Some fruits are bright yellow; others remain green even when ripe. Some are long and slender, while others are round and fleshy. Every branch looks different, making the tree appear almost as if several mango trees have been brought together.

“Every variety has its own identity. Their colour is different, their aroma is different, and, most importantly, their taste is different. When people see them growing on the same tree, they can hardly believe it,” he explains with excitement.

Among all of them, Mallika remains closest to his heart.

“Mallika is my favourite because of its flavour. It has a lovely sweetness with a slight tang to it. Even after ripening, it stays firm for longer than other varieties, so you can enjoy it over several days,” he says.

The tree is generous too. Depending on the season, it produces between 800 kg and one tonne of mangoes.

“One tree gives us enough mangoes for 30 to 40 families. We never worry about finishing them because there is always someone who wants to taste another variety,” he adds.

Word has spread beyond his neighbourhood. Friends bring their children, gardening enthusiasts arrive with endless questions, and neighbours often stop by just to see which varieties have ripened.

“People first come to see the tree out of fascination. Then they start tasting the mangoes and comparing the flavours. It becomes a long conversation because everyone ends up choosing a different favourite,” he explains.

The tree he still misses

The tree standing in his garden today is not the first one he transformed through grafting. Beside it once stood another mango tree that had become even more extraordinary.

Over the years, he had grafted more than 46 varieties onto it, turning it into what he proudly considered the crown jewel of his garden.

Then, a fungal infection struck.

It spread through the tree, and by the time the symptoms became visible, it was already too late.

Recalling the loss, his voice softens, “We tried everything to save it. I consulted specialists who knew mango trees inside out. Medicines were given, every possible effort was made, but nothing worked.”

Within just over two weeks, the mature tree died.

“Watching it dry up was heartbreaking. We had looked after it for years. It wasn’t just another tree for us. Losing it felt like losing something very precious,” he admits.

For days afterwards, he found himself walking into the garden almost expecting to see it standing there. Instead of giving up, however, he decided to start afresh. Rather than leaving the space empty, he planted a Miyazaki mango sapling, hopeful that it too would one day flourish.

“Gardening teaches patience. Sometimes nature has other plans, but that does not mean you stop planting,” he affirms.

Mango season means family season

By the time May arrives, conversations at his home begin revolving around one thing, which is obviously mangoes.

His father, now 92, still eagerly waits for the first fruits to ripen.

“Even before the season starts, he asks me when the mangoes will be ready. Every day, I pluck one mango for him. Seeing him enjoy it gives me immense happiness,” he says.

As more branches begin bearing fruit, the garden slowly fills with visitors.

Neighbours walk in to see the unusual tree. Relatives arrive carrying empty bags, hoping to take home a few mangoes. Friends settle under its shade for long conversations that often stretch late into the evening.

Anup and his family have even turned it into a tradition.

“Almost every year we organise a mango party. Everyone gets to taste different varieties and compare their flavours,” he says.

Fresh mangoes are only part of the feast.

His family also prepares mango ice cream, mango halwa, and mango papad, making sure no fruit goes to waste. “People enjoy tasting the different varieties, but they also enjoy spending time together. That’s what I look forward to the most,” he adds.

The tree has also become a refuge for birds.

Throughout the year, nests appear among its branches, filling the garden with birdsong every morning.

“When I see birds making their homes in the tree, I feel we have created something for them too. Nature has accepted it,” he explains 

Bringing an abandoned orchard back to life

The success of the tree outside his home encouraged him to think beyond his own garden.

His family owns ancestral land in Tikariya, but for years it had remained largely neglected. Since no one lived in the village anymore, local farmers cultivated the land under a crop-sharing arrangement. Over time, the soil lost its fertility, and the family rarely visited.

Seeing how well the multi-variety mango tree had flourished, they decided it was time to make use of the land again.

“We all sat together and discussed what could be done with the land. Instead of leaving it unused, we thought it would be wonderful to grow mangoes there,” he says.

The family first worked on improving the soil before planting saplings.

Today, the land is home to around 450 mango trees, and he now spends much of his time overseeing the orchard. He guides family members on caring for the trees and has also introduced grafting in parts of the orchard to grow different varieties.

“When we saw what one tree could do at home, it gave all of us the confidence to create something much bigger in the village. Now everyone in the family is involved,” he says happily.

He hopes the orchard will continue to grow over the coming years and eventually become known for producing a wide range of quality mangoes.

Let nature do the work

Ask him the secret to growing healthy mango trees, and he will tell you not to overcomplicate the process.

He prefers to use well-decomposed cow dung compost instead of chemical fertilisers and believes that healthy soil produces healthy fruit. During summer, the trees are watered regularly, while in winter they need very little irrigation. The monsoon usually provides enough moisture on its own.

If fungal diseases appear, neem oil is his first choice before turning to stronger treatments.

“The fewer chemicals you use, the better it is for both the tree and the people eating the fruit. I want my family to eat mangoes that are grown as naturally as possible,” he explains.

He also makes it a point to inspect the trees regularly.

“A tree tells you when something is wrong. You just have to observe it. If you care for it every day, it responds in its own way,” he adds.

You don’t need a big garden

Anup believes many people give up on growing mangoes because they think they need a large orchard.

“That’s not true at all. Even people living in cities can grow mangoes,” he says.

He recommends dwarf varieties such as Ambika, Arunika, Mallika, and Amrapali, which grow well in large containers and begin fruiting within a few years. For anyone interested in creating a multi-variety tree, he says patience is more important than experience.

“Start with one healthy tree. Once it is established, you can graft branches of other varieties onto it. Don’t be disappointed if the first attempt fails. Mine failed too. Every unsuccessful graft teaches you something new,” he explains.

A tree that keeps childhood alive

For him, the mango tree standing in his garden is not just a successful gardening project.

It brings back memories of running through orchards in Tikariya with his cousins, plucking mangoes straight from the branches and waiting for his father to return home with yet another basket of different varieties.

Those memories have found a place in his present.

Every summer afternoon, his father sits beneath the same tree, eating the one mango he is allowed each day. Around him are family members, neighbours, and friends, passing slices of Mallika, Kesar, Neelam, or Dussehri around and arguing over which tastes best.

Children play beneath the branches, birds nest among the leaves, and conversations continue long after the plates are empty.

“This tree has become a member of our family,” he says. “We have looked after it for 16 years, and every year it brings everyone together. My father waits for the mangoes, our neighbours wait for them, our relatives wait for them. We sit under the tree, eat mangoes, and spend time together. That is the greatest happiness it has given us.”

The little boy who once hid behind a water tank to eat two stolen mangoes never really left. He only grew up, served the public for three decades, retired, and found his way back to the fruit that had coloured his happiest childhood memories.

All pictures courtesy Ishita Bajpai.

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