Surajkund Mela: Visual Invitation into the Tribal Beauty and Flair

The scent of coconut oil, vigorously massaged into my hair by my nani in her courtyard, instantly transports me back to the most cherished days of my childhood. As I reflect on them, I am reminded of her unwavering enthusiasm for appreciating the ‘Ordinary’ in life. She has always been my muse, my inspiration to write about the beauty in the ordinary. I remember she would often exclaim with unbridled joy, "Simple hi toh best hota hai" (the simple things are the best). She had the most distinct quality of finding magic in the mundane and it was so contagious that I would often find myself drawn into her world of classic aesthetics. It was how I developed a passion for photography of the plainest things I spotted everywhere like leaves scattered around the dustbin, the peepal tree in the park we tied the red threads around, a traffic light buzzing at noon, a weird dilapidated structure, and many more such. The utmost joy of spending almost all my summer vacations at her place, I have always idolized her and the most creative perspectives she has given me.

So here’s to the ordinary adventures that now are extraordinary memories.

I was born and brought up in the small town of Faridabad, a city known for its aesthetic rugged contours and the alluring painted skies with the hues of pink, blue, and green around the Aravalli hills where my school is situated. Faridabad is known as an industrial hub, with its proximity to Delhi, its Scorpio-ish crowd, and its Surajkund mela. Each year in February, the air carries a familiar refrain - ‘Get in the car loser, we are going shopping.’ I think if it were up to me to organise a fair in my city - I envision a similar spectacle that I witnessed back in those days - it would definitely be inspired by the Surajkund mela. The very same spot with its raw tribal-some beauty and the rugged terrain with its adventurous flair - certainly a shopping experience with a cardio twist. 

As a kid, my mom used to lug me to the fair each year in February, it was almost like a family tradition to go there. Unfortunately, that has been on hold since I moved out, but it’s a place where one can feel the true vitality of the city among people pouring in from different parts of the country. It was that time of the year when my mom and Nani would pull up their socks, carrying their exuberant jibe to go on a splurge, a shopping spree, going about flaunting their bargaining tactics. The aesthetic vibes of the place remain unmatched, a sensory overload, I remember being surrounded by a panoply of uniquely sublime upholstery, artifacts whispering forgotten times, jewelry that winked in the sunlight amongst other stuff. The sole motivation for me and my cousins for enduring the noon heat were the sapid delicacies being served at the food court. I remember as soon as we stepped in, we rushed towards the food court, wide-eyed and ravenous. Even now, years later, if I found myself stranded at Gate Number 2, alone and blindfolded, I have no doubt my nose (and stomach) would lead me straight to that glorious food court. 

There were always the colorful jewelry and hair accessories my mom used to buy me that I probably wore just once in my life - and they were often relegated to the forgotten corner of my closet after the fair. But it comes down to the stories behind every pearl in the necklace my mom bought for me, how she spent those 15 minutes battling with the vendor, her eyes sparkling with playful defiance as she argued for a hundred rupees instead of two hundred. And it wasn’t even about the money, it was just that bargaining made her really happy for some reason - I couldn’t really figure it out till this date. And, after her shopping spree, she sat with us (me and my dad) that very night and held a price-guessing game. She would be so proud of her bargaining skills, I remember how my dad used to tease her into believing that she could have gotten a bit more discount. 

PS - I still have one of the pearl sets she bought me when I was 8 tucked away somewhere that I’ll surely look for.

From the most amusing moments that I still rejoice in, to the most embarrassing moments when a wad of chewing gum got stuck to my hair strands or when I puked as I had gorged on too many appetizers on the Ferris wheel or had a sore throat after having too many of those kala-khatta ice-popsicles. It’s always been a really good time.

If I could organize the mela - I’d like to have a stall for my favorite bakery in the town - ‘Harish Bakers’. It has always been a go-to spot for me, a haven of melt-in-your-mouth pastries that never fail to chase away the blues. The aroma alone – a symphony of warm bread, vanilla essence, and mouthwatering desserts – is enough to pull me in like a cartoon character lured by delicious smells. I have always relished their lemon tarts, coconut macaroons, and blueberry cheesecakes.  The joy of guilt-tripping in these sweet masterpieces amidst Mela's vibrant energy – now that's a recipe for an unforgettable experience.

The true heart of the Mela lay nestled amidst the gentle slopes – a hidden pathway leading to a special spot. This "hilly top," as we called it, was more than just a vantage point. It was a portal to our special moments. The climb to the top was often a race against my cousins, a breathless dash punctuated by giggles. I remember sitting there with my cousins when our folks were out splurging.  I'm sure those stones hold more memories of my childhood than I do. The sunsets we watched from there weren't any grand spectacles, it was something more. It was a moment of pure contentment, a perfect ending to a chaotic day at the Mela.

Near the Surajkund hills is the Badhkal Lake (unfortunately, it’s no longer a lake, it's just a sprawling dried-up patchy, rugged area under construction). Sadly, I got to know about a week ago that the park there was demolished, the whole place is being reconstructed and the authorities plan to merge it with the main highway. It made me nostalgic about the countless cherished childhood memories, how my cousins and I always pestered our parents to take us there. We used to have popsicles, fritters, and cotton candy under the shade of a tree and I always asked Dad to buy me those heart-shaped helium-filled balloons. The place back then used to be filled with crowds, mostly children shouting and screaming on rides, we could hear the priests chanting the verses or the older people harping on political issues aggressively. It made me really sad when I got to know that it’s just a dumping site now for the vicinity and barren land for crows to hover above. If I were hosting the fair, one dream would take precedence: the revival of Badhkal Lake. Imagine – a restored lake, shimmering under the sun, offering tranquil boat rides. 

But perhaps the most vivid memory etched in my heart isn't tied to a specific place within the Mela. The true magic of the Mela wasn't confined to its sights and sounds. It resided in the moments shared with loved ones. My fondest memory is racing from the Katcha road to the Golden Gate with my dad. There was this really famous wall with all these sports personalities painted on it, marking the start of the race. There’s nothing too special about this one - it’s just the time I spent with him and the continuous bickering after the race about who had cheated. Looking back, that wall and the gate aren't just a landmark. It would always remind me of all the races that I have lost to him, seeing it with a sense of pride, vying for victory surely is proof that I got my competitive genes from him.  

I think I personally don’t have to put in much effort to design the fair as such - because the real magic lies in the memories it creates. So I am not too sure if I can make it special for anyone by listing all the merits - sure, the fair boasts vibrant marketplaces, delectable food stalls, thrilling rides, and engaging games - the usual suspects that draw crowds but more than that it’s the experiences that I’ve had there, that place carries my childhood within its pockets - it’s the air of the place that makes it so warm and so family-like that if you have good company - it’s for sure even if you lack good bargaining skills - you’re certainly taking a bag full of memories that would be worth it.

Fortunately enough, I have never had the experience of getting lost in the crowd. Maybe it's a testament to my parents' hawk-like vigilance, or perhaps the ever-present security guards who ensure everyone finds their way. But there's a lot that Mela offers already – designated lost-and-found areas, helpful security personnel, even a public announcement booth, and CCTVs installed at every shop. A part of me, a tiny adventurous part, can't help but be intrigued by that idea. I'd like to experience that essence of the Kumbh Mela once, it’d be some adventure really.

With a future-inspired vision, I think I’d like to introduce some changes to make the fair more wholesome. There’s already a lot being done in terms of embracing new ideas - like different competitions, fashion shows, standups in the Chopal area, etc. Since the fair is about experiencing tradition and the essence of our country - Imagine learning the art of handloom weaving or pottery making while surrounded by the vibrant energy of the fair and interactive workshops showcasing traditional crafts alongside the stalls selling them. 

Imagine a Mela that not only celebrates culture but also fosters environmental responsibility. With rows of brightly colored recycling machines lining the fairgrounds. Each time you deposit a plastic bottle or other recyclable material, you'll receive a discount coupon for delicious fair food! It's a win-win – a cleaner environment and delectable treats at a reduced price. Then there could be a garbage wall - Picture a large, interactive wall divided into sections – one for recyclable items and another for non-recyclable waste. Visitors, young and old, could participate in a game, sorting colorful replicas of everyday items and sticking them in the appropriate section. It's a playful way to learn about responsible waste disposal, all within the lively atmosphere of the Mela.

The Mela, in its future iterations, could take inclusivity to the next level with dedicated lines for the third gender, a welcoming gesture that acknowledges and celebrates diversity. This small step could make a big difference, encouraging everyone to feel a part of Mela's vibrant community.

And to spread the magic of the Mela even further, a dedicated Instagram page could be a game-changer. Short, captivating videos showcasing the sights, sounds, and emotions of the fair would instantly transport viewers to the heart of the action. Imagine glimpses of dazzling performances, mouthwatering food stalls, and the infectious laughter of families – a visual invitation to experience the unforgettable magic of the Surajkund Mela.

My only hope for the future of fun in my city is that this magic endures - experiencing the warmth of the mela culture. Because amidst the FOMO in their screens, people are really missing out on living. The real magic lies not in curated feeds but in the messy, joyful moments shared with loved ones.

Author: Lavisha Taneja

This piece is part of Nagrika’s Annual Youth Writing Contest. Through the writing contest we encourage youth to think creatively and innovatively about their cities.