The Great Mango Heist

In the small Indian village of Bhagalpur, known mostly for its stubborn cows and excellent mangoes, nothing ever really happened. And when something did happen, it usually involved someone falling into a well or stealing slippers from the temple porch.

But then came Babu.

Now Babu wasn’t new to the village. In fact, he had lived there his whole life. But what made Babu famous — or rather infamous — was that he always had the most ridiculous ideas.

“I am not mad,” he once shouted while chasing a duck with a frying pan, “I am an inventor!”

Everyone in the village ignored him. Except for Gopal, his best friend, who was just as strange, and Laila, his goat, who followed him like a dog and ate like a monster.

This is the story of The Great Mango Heist, the most absurdly ambitious, hilariously flawed, and utterly unforgettable event Bhagalpur had ever seen.

It all began one blazing summer afternoon.

The sun was so hot that people were frying papads on the rooftops, and the monkeys were fanning themselves with banana leaves.

Babu sat under a neem tree, shirtless, fanning Laila with a notebook. Gopal lay nearby, chewing a sugarcane stick like a philosopher.

“Gopal,” Babu said, “do you know what this heat reminds me of?”

“Being roasted alive?”

“No,” Babu said dramatically. “It reminds me… of mangoes.”

“Mangoes?”

“Yes. And do you know who has the best mangoes in the whole village?”

Gopal groaned. “Please don’t say—”

“Mukhiyaji! That old tyrant with the orchard guarded like it’s Fort Knox!”

Mukhiyaji, the village head, owned the juiciest mango trees. But he was also paranoid. He’d built a bamboo fence, set up traps, and hired two nephews and one half-blind dog named Raju to guard it.

No one dared to steal his mangoes.

Until Babu had a plan.

“Listen carefully,” Babu whispered, crouched behind his house with Gopal and Laila. “Tonight, we steal just one mango. Not for money. Not for fame. But for justice!”

“Justice?”

“Yes! For every papad the sun has roasted! For every lassi we drank that had no mango pulp! For—”

“Okay, okay,” Gopal interrupted. “What’s the plan?”

Babu pulled out a sketch he’d made on the back of a water bill. It featured:

A bicycle with ropes attached to the handlebars

Laila the goat wearing sunglasses

A slingshot made from a rubber chappal

And a backpack labeled: "Mango Extraction Unit"

Gopal stared. “This is either genius or completely mad.”

Babu grinned. “Thank you.”

That night, under the cover of darkness (and one very confused owl), the three of them set off.

Phase 1: Distraction

Laila, trained over weeks to obey commands like “Attack!” and “Confuse!”, was released near the orchard gate. She charged like a woolly cannonball toward Raju, the dog.

Raju barked twice, tripped over a stick, and ran into the fence.

Laila then began her secret weapon: eating the bamboo gate.

Phase 2: Entry

While the goat munched through security, Babu and Gopal tiptoed behind the trees.

“I see one!” Gopal whispered, pointing to a glowing golden mango.

Babu reached out with a long stick and the chappal slingshot. With great effort, he plucked the mango… and immediately slipped on cow dung and fell face-first into a bush.

Phase 3: Escape

Alarms began to ring — not real ones, but Mukhiyaji’s nephews yelling, “THIEVES! MANGO THIEVES!”

Babu grabbed the mango, shoved it in the backpack, and jumped on the bicycle.

“Go go go!”

Laila rammed a bucket. Gopal tripped over his own lungi. The bicycle wobbled, dragging Gopal on a rope behind it like a water skier.

They rode through the village like maniacs — a man with a mango, a goat with attitude, and a screaming friend being pulled like luggage.

The mango, meanwhile, bounced out of the bag and landed in the gutter.

None of them noticed.

By morning, all of Bhagalpur was buzzing.

“Mukhiyaji’s orchard was attacked!”

“They say the thief was a talking goat!”

“One of them was riding a flying bicycle!”

“Another one wore a banana leaf as a cape!”

Rumors spread faster than pickle in summer.

Mukhiyaji was furious.

“This is an attack on mango dignity!” he roared. “We must find the criminals!”

He demanded justice. He called a village meeting. He even offered a reward: one whole mango and half a bottle of pickle.

Babu and Gopal hid in a shed for two days, surviving on stale bread and Laila’s milk.

But guilt began to eat at Babu.

Not because he stole — but because they lost the mango.

“What’s the point of stealing if you don’t even enjoy the loot?” he moaned.

Then Gopal had an idea.

“Let’s return to the scene of the crime. Find the mango. Eat it in front of Mukhiyaji. Reclaim our honor.”

Babu beamed. “That’s the most ridiculous, courageous, and completely unnecessary thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Let’s do it.”

That night, they returned — stealthier, smarter, sneakier.

This time, Laila wore camouflage made of leaves. Gopal brought two slingshots. Babu wore a helmet made from a coconut shell.

They snuck past Raju (who was asleep inside a water pot), tiptoed into the orchard…

…and found Mukhiyaji himself, sitting under the mango tree with a stick.

“You again!” he shouted.

Babu froze. Gopal dropped a fart from fear.

Then suddenly, Laila charged.

Mukhiyaji screamed, dropped his stick, and ran. Babu grabbed two mangoes and tossed one to Gopal.

They climbed the tree, sitting like victorious monkeys, and ate.

Juice dripped down their chins.

Victory was sweet.

Epilogue: The Mango Pact

The next morning, a note was found nailed to the orchard fence:

“Dear Mukhiyaji,

You can keep your mangoes. But next time, leave a few on the edge for public sampling. Also, train your dog better.

Sincerely,

The Mango Avengers 🍋 (we know it’s a lemon, but the mango emoji doesn’t exist)”

Mukhiyaji, instead of exploding, laughed.

Secretly, he admired their courage. And the mango was good.

From that day on, he started Mango Mela, a festival where everyone got free mangoes once a year.

And as for Babu, Gopal, and Laila?

They became legends.

The mango heroes.

The goat-riding, slingshot-wielding, tree-climbing trio.

And every summer, when mangoes ripened and mischief filled the air, someone would whisper:

“Do you remember the Great Mango Heist?”

And laughter would follow.

😂 Moral of the Story:

Even the most ridiculous ideas can lead to juicy rewards — and sometimes, a goat is all the distraction you need.