My home town in the mid-1970s was a laid-back place, resembling a remote rural area, except in having some amenities. Our house was almost at one end of the town. About 15 km away, there was a small village where a fair was held for a week every year during the harvest season. The village deity was worshipped by many from the places in the vicinity.
Devotees thronged the fair not only for divine blessings but also for watching street-shows and other entertainment events. Only a mud track led to the village and everyone reached there by walking or on bullock carts.
My father, an advocate by profession, was popular among the villagers. His clients from the place used to arrange bullock carts for us and a few family friends and relatives to attend the fair.
The journey would start early in the morning. We children will be in a separate cart. I used to eagerly look forward to this occasion every year as though it was a journey of a lifetime and worth enjoying every minute of it. Money saved for this fair would be tucked firmly in my pockets during the journey. Whenever the cart jerked or sped away, I would hold my pockets tightly so that coins would not spill out.
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En route, we would stop for breakfast under the sprawling canopy of a huge banyan tree. Eating amid nature was a blissful experience, all the more when delicacies served with love and affection made them taste like ambrosia and sated everyone’s palate.
The crowd at the temple in the foothill used to be highly unorganised, especially at the food counter where prasadam was served. Hot and spicy puffed rice and tea made of jaggery were the delectable combination of food and beverage every devotee craved for.
Going to the temple used to be the last priority of us children. Fearing elders’ wrath, we would hurriedly finish the formality of darshan.
On the way back home, we would discuss the things that we would take to school to show our batch mates. We would see and feel the toys again and again in the moonlit night.
After many years, I visited the village with my childhood friend. The thing that I noticed was conspicuous by its absence was the food counter on the temple premises. We otherwise felt happy that nothing much had changed, except for a decent road and the organised crowd. Development is desired but not at the cost of nature, I muttered to my friend.
sujith_sandur@yahoo.in
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