Went to the Pilani Mela about a week back. We usually take a few juniors along, juniors who have been hitherto cribbing about missing city life. I did.
But first, about the annual Mela. Located about a mile away from the campus and earmarked by that huge Shivji statue beside it, are the grounds which play host to this very 'vibrant' and 'colorful' (hmm...) fair which happens once a year. As one enters the place, one is greeted by graying ( and rather grubby) Mickey Mouse heads bobbing in the air, part of a huge slide made of inflated rubber for small kids, manufactured with the sole aim of making fun of people of short stature.
Hey Pavan, I think youcan are allowed on that slide. You're short enough.
After Pavan bleghed his ass off, we all proceeded to the best ride of the lot, the break dance. The whole of last year, 'brak dance' terrified the living daylights out of me. Now with the correct spelling and a fresh coat of paint (Actually, no.) the ride still looked puke-addictive. Now I'm no chicken, but there is a limit to the number of centrifugal vector additions my extremely motion-sickness prone body could take. Apart from the tilted axis of the whole base, the seats are allowed to swivel around at blinding speeds, leaving you gasping for breath and clutching your ponch. The juniors took it well, some girls going even twice. Oh, the emasculation of it.
Then, there's the "Mauth Ki Khuan", literally translating to Well of Death. As the Pilani DJ(?) puts it, they have 16 year old professionals who are not afraid of death, riding a motorbike and a Maruti 800 round and round the creaking walls of the 'well' as we stood in awe from above.
Speaking of creaking, I would like to mention that most of the amusement rides here were probably built for G. D. Birla a hundred years back, and the management decided to trust in god to keep the rusting, crumbling structures from total implosion. One would mistake the Mela for the sets of Final Destination 5.
But the most beautiful part of the damn Mela is not the rides or the shops or the multitude of a myriad collection of shops and sweets and bangles. All about the experience you know.
Profoundness in 3... 2... 1...
I walked in, 18, cribbing about this village and how it's got absolutely nothing to offer. I turned a kid, 7, on seeing the rides and how much more fun they were, with friends.Then there's the motley assortment of people from other nearby villages. Old men in Dhotis and wearing Rajasthani Turbans, their wives ambling behind them, slightly servile in attitude, young (local) girls in Churidhars with their brothers jumping about, excited just to be there, married women shopping for their households, young coots in low waist jeans. They were all very happy, with this. They didn't need the consecrated walls of concrete and steel to keep them content.
Happiness is relative. You just have to set your zero low enough.
But first, about the annual Mela. Located about a mile away from the campus and earmarked by that huge Shivji statue beside it, are the grounds which play host to this very 'vibrant' and 'colorful' (hmm...) fair which happens once a year. As one enters the place, one is greeted by graying ( and rather grubby) Mickey Mouse heads bobbing in the air, part of a huge slide made of inflated rubber for small kids, manufactured with the sole aim of making fun of people of short stature.
Hey Pavan, I think you
After Pavan bleghed his ass off, we all proceeded to the best ride of the lot, the break dance. The whole of last year, 'brak dance' terrified the living daylights out of me. Now with the correct spelling and a fresh coat of paint (Actually, no.) the ride still looked puke-addictive. Now I'm no chicken, but there is a limit to the number of centrifugal vector additions my extremely motion-sickness prone body could take. Apart from the tilted axis of the whole base, the seats are allowed to swivel around at blinding speeds, leaving you gasping for breath and clutching your ponch. The juniors took it well, some girls going even twice. Oh, the emasculation of it.
Then, there's the "Mauth Ki Khuan", literally translating to Well of Death. As the Pilani DJ(?) puts it, they have 16 year old professionals who are not afraid of death, riding a motorbike and a Maruti 800 round and round the creaking walls of the 'well' as we stood in awe from above.
Speaking of creaking, I would like to mention that most of the amusement rides here were probably built for G. D. Birla a hundred years back, and the management decided to trust in god to keep the rusting, crumbling structures from total implosion. One would mistake the Mela for the sets of Final Destination 5.
But the most beautiful part of the damn Mela is not the rides or the shops or the multitude of a myriad collection of shops and sweets and bangles. All about the experience you know.
Profoundness in 3... 2... 1...
I walked in, 18, cribbing about this village and how it's got absolutely nothing to offer. I turned a kid, 7, on seeing the rides and how much more fun they were, with friends.Then there's the motley assortment of people from other nearby villages. Old men in Dhotis and wearing Rajasthani Turbans, their wives ambling behind them, slightly servile in attitude, young (local) girls in Churidhars with their brothers jumping about, excited just to be there, married women shopping for their households, young coots in low waist jeans. They were all very happy, with this. They didn't need the consecrated walls of concrete and steel to keep them content.
Happiness is relative. You just have to set your zero low enough.
good writing.... the last line in particular is quite profound indeed.... not sure if you and your gang really understand the meaning...
ReplyDeletespeaking from the other side, that would mean setting very low benchmarks and not enough challenge.... if there's no challenge, there's no fun...
as they say.... aim for the stars, you will probably land in the moon