Farmer Spends 15 Years Reviving Rare Mango From 1 Tree

When Shamkant Thange spotted the last two living branches on a withered 100-year-old mango tree in 2006, he knew he had to act fast. The Tikhliya mango, once so beloved in Tikhol village that farmers paraded bullock carts filled with the fruit through streets to brass band music, was about to disappear forever.

Thange brought those dying branches home to his farm in Ahmednagar, Maharashtra, and carefully grafted them. Over 15 patient years, he and his family nurtured those grafts into 200 thriving trees across two acres.

The Tikhliya mango had been a village treasure since British colonial times. Older residents like 85-year-old Sakhare Thange remember when six bullock carts would haul the harvest 40 kilometers to market, each loaded with 600 kilograms of the prized fruit.

The mango earned its nickname "Hapus of Ahmednagar," comparing it to the region's famous Alphonso variety. But by the late 1990s, the original trees stopped producing fruit and eventually withered away.

Today, Thange's oldest trees yield 3 to 5 tonnes of fruit annually. This year, he harvested 5,000 kilograms and sold them for 150 rupees per kilogram.

The Ripple Effect

Word of the revival has spread fast. Farmers from distant Sindhudurg now travel to Tikhol seeking saplings, and Thange says he's fielding hundreds of orders.

What makes Tikhliya special goes beyond taste. The fruit ripens in mid-June, after other mango varieties finish their season, giving farmers an extended harvest window. Its thick stems protect fruit bunches from the destructive monsoon storms that typically devastate mango crops.

Vasant Gharat, a fish trader from Panvel, stumbled upon the mango during a business trip and became an instant devotee. "The aroma stays with you," he says, explaining why he acquired saplings to gift farmer friends.

The Agricultural Technology Management Agency now plans to help the Thange family develop a full nursery to meet surging demand. What started as one man's quiet mission to save a childhood memory has become a movement to restore agricultural heritage across the region.

One farmer's 15-year labor of love proves that extinction doesn't have to be forever.