Our house has a small garden. Many flowers and fruits grow in it. There is an old mango tree at the end of the garden. This is my favourite tree. It stands behind the house upright in a corner. My grandfather once told me a story about this tree. When my grandmother was pregnant with my uncle, she craved for mangoes. So my grandfather brought mangoes for her.

While she was eating the mangoes, my father who was small and naughty like me came running and ran with the seed, saying that he would sow it. He ran to the backyard and started digging the ground with a stone with the intention of sowing it. Seeing this my grandfather dug a hole for him and they both sowed it. My grandpa also showed me the photo of my father with an excited face smiling wholeheartedly. It was the smile of an achievement; achievement of sowing the mango seed. I remember my grandpa saying that my father was standing as if he had won a trophy. Everyday evening after he came back from school he used to check if the mangoes had sprouted. He was sad that the mangoes were not coming out.

My grandma later explained to him that it would take time. Slowly he grew tired of waiting for the mangoes. But finally when he got the first mango his joy knew no bounds. Now the same mango tree is my best friend. When the mangoes sprout monkeys too start coming. Birds also have made their nest there. I get up hearing the chirping of the birds. When mother scolds at me, I run and hide behind the mango tree. Me and my friends sit on its branches and taste the sweet mangoes. I share all my secrets with the tree as I am sure it will not tell anyone. I love my mango tree.