What's the connection between midsummer and mystery?

It was a torrid, sultry noon in my small remote village ( located in the Eastern India ). I can easily reckon, my colleagues collected outside my house to go on a spree. firstly decided to march to a pond located at a distance of half a mile by foot. subsequently borne idea of plucking mangoes from near-by orchards whilst stroding for pool.
we had ourselves to bathe in cool water for a bit of time. stretching all notorious activities from sneering to dabbling, shrieking to bullying others. after adventurous bath few reluctantly agreed to march toward orchard as we were forbid to enter since solely owned by rich, despot land-lords. as It was my notion so was I much earnest to resume, though friends propped me promptly. during the month of may and june, mangoes flourish lavishly in areas of north- central India. I could not resist my temptation to fall at mangoes as glances struck trees thickly laden with sappy mangoes and trepassed into orchard by sneaking from watchmen, we were driven into delirious lure by copius mangoes and keep darting deep inside the orchard.

rushed on the floor to fumble stones but stones striking could not work well, and none was ready to climb on a tree due to fear of unable to run away if watchmen appear and ultimately  become their prey. however, I decided to climb on tree to pluck mangoes. to my unfortunate  was caught by a watchman though friends gave shouts, due to thick tall tree skidded, crawled sluggishly provided watchman easy clasp.
I was escorted by watchman to my home. he complained to my mother impertinently about our mischievous activity swiftly.

I was escorted by watchman to my home. he complained to my mother impertinently about our mischievous activity effortlessly. to this my naughtiness, mom decided to imprison me into a tiny, musty cramped room in the house which used to resonant me as a creepy room during childhood. gloomy, smeared and tarnished with number of spiderwebs hanging, mouldy stinky smell keep haunting in one's nose until absolute exit from filthy room. the antiquated low wooden door, whose rusted hinges make grating sound on giving movements, made me to quiver. I used to peep stealthily when mom used to enter with the dim lighted lantern ( traditional lightning apparatus in villages when electricity was absence ). she use this dilapidated room for storing outdated, ignorant stuffs. my memories gradually countering these fancies and wave of timidness felt by me as mother took me to scary room but my persistent cry melt her to forgive me and pardon my mischievousness.