Surajkund

For any child growing up in a small town, a mela used to be the be all and end all of all the fun. Things have changed dramatically all over the country and the melas aren't the magnets they used to be for kids. The kids of today have their electronic toys to keep them engaged. The earthy flavor of a mela seems like a thing of ancient past.

Surajkund mela was a breath of fresh air mixed with nostalgia for everyone who is not quite a kid anymore but still remembers his/her childhood fondly. The bright colored hut shops with even brighter apparels seemed to signal the arrival of the festive spring. The feet, however, were on auto pilot as they carried the empty stomachs to the food court. All the eatables were atrociously expensive with a 5 rupee kulfi available at 50. The food didn't have much to write home about except the delicious sarson da saag.

The chants and drum beats coming from another corner was the next stop. The chants turned out to be a Telugu recital of Ramayana. The garish, belly jiggling Hanumans there had everyone reaching out for their cameras. Suddenly, the drumbeats would reach a crescendo and the onlookers would start dancing with the two Hanumans in a funny unsynchronized way. The presence of two Hanumans was rather puzzling and it was solved when someone suggested that maybe their version of Ramayana differed from Ramanand Sagar's.

The lure of the revolving iron-wheel was too much for the rejuvenated IIMC brigade as everyone headed for a few rides after the divine rendition. Some went trigger happy and shot at hanging nails, some were just happy looking at the merry-go-rounds. The dust in the air, the feeling of weightlessness on the rides and the sounds of shrill, excited screams added to the spirit of the day.

Surajkund, in more ways than one, was an escape to the unbridled childhood for all of us.