The world - A bigger Mela

A hard(ly) working soul heads back home in an age old Moped. How the vehicle manages to run is a miracle many have set to work upon and have really not come up with a plausible explanation. Just wanting to enjoy the cool breeze, the soul in q decides to linger on the roads a while longer. A long ride, the cool breeze ruffling her hair, music (so she claims) playing on her lips, a perfectly blissful setting.
She had passed by that mela, replete with its flurry of activities several times but had never given it second thoughts. But today was different. It was a day when she felt she had all time in the world, no elaborate cuisine to roll out for the day, rather night, no dinner treat to attend, no conf call to get back to the office and so it was that she landed in the mela. Of course the pop corn was a factor by itself but that can be discounted for the moment.
She was soon amidst the throngs, so colourful, getting a royal red(bordering on maroon) carpet welcome and all for a measly Rs 10 ticket. Suddenly she was caught in a world so different from the normal, a world of adults putting world class financiers to shame with their haggling and trying to dole out “value for money” fundaas to starry eyed kids. Everywhere there were boards proudly proclaiming the cost of goods anywhere between 10 to almost as expensive as 200. Jumpy children wanting everything they set eyes upon. It was so alive, the whole place.
The mela brought back memories of another mela visited 2 years back in Hyd. Clothes were purchased after they went through the “Roomie screening exercise”, where the roomie would normally raise objections against anything from the length or lack of sleeves to the whopping cost one had to pay. She was usually secretly convinced that the prices were pretty reasonable but had to play along because they were convinced that one would get a better deal else where. The standard trick of walking away from obstinate shopkeepers was tried, but sometimes she panicked because, that much coveted dress was swaying in the shop and the man never called back.
Soon she was at the very end of this mela and decided to head back. That was when she spotted the man standing next to “WELCOM TO COTTON CANDY” shop unmindful of the missing e worried more about wooing the next child who passed by. Children were always the best customers. They always wanted more of them candies and often to give them company parents had them too.
She did remember scenes such as this of those faraway years when she tugged at her dad’s hands urging him to get her cotton candy. Soon one of those nosey parker adults accompanying them would raise objections, cautioning them about the strong links between eating cotton candy and getting a cough. Her pleas only became stronger. When finally her father did relent, a moment’s victory was achieved. Then there was a fight among the cousins as to whose lips, tongue and teeth were the pinkest of them all. Each was showing off to the others his/her long tongue, each was trying to bite off a bit of the candy in the others’ hands, enjoying the moment when the candy just melted in and glided down his/her throats. It was amazing how the fluffy pink cloud shaped mass soon disappeared leaving no traces except a long stick and sticky, pink, soft baby hands. Hands engulfed in hands all the sticky hands would then unite and run away to target the next object of interest.
Amidst a flood of memories and a surge of emotions nearly choking her, she trudged her way back to the blue TVS that was faithfully waiting for her.