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Speculative Desi Fiction

Getting down at Vishakapatnam airport Pihu , took the first available taxi towards the inter state bus stand. She had to catch the only bus which went to her sleepy town. She was excited about the trip. Firstly going to the little town and meeting her friend Beena after two decades and to witness the ‘Rath Yatra’ the annual fair. Pihu getting on to the bus realised that nothing much had changed about the rickety bus or the passengers.

Pihu took a window seat. Fortunately there was no other passenger sharing the seat with her though the bus was almost packed. In less than an hour the bus started slowly has if adjusting to the weight of the passengers and the things over loaded both in the luggage boot and tied on the its roof top.

The soft breeze and the rolling motion of the bus made Pihu to close her eyes and her mind drifted to the past as a little girl how she and her friend Beena would dress their dolls. “The red, pink, orange... or the green”, holding pieces of left over rags brought from Dhanu kaka, the tailor’s shop, Pihu would ask her friend Beena , who would be busy draping the rags as sari to the dolls brought in the ‘Rath Yatra’ fair.

The fair which was usually held during the monsoon, was much awaited event both for the young and the old. For Pihu and Beena it was special time . Firstly they both would get a chance to meet each other. A chance to spend the little pocket money they saved through out the year for that day.

The ‘Rath yatra’ which is also called ‘Car festival’ , no one knows the origin of this fair. It is the time when the trinity deities, the two brothers ‘Lord Jagannath and Balabhadra and their dear sister ‘ Devi Subhadra ‘ decked in their respective chariots which are built specially for this occasion visit their aunt’s home. The chariots are drawn by thousands of devotees followed by sea of people dancing, chanting and singing in ecstasy .

The whole town would transform into a buzzing shopping hub for next nine days.Thousands of people would throng the Main Street where all kinds of shops , push carts, crude shacks would be doing brisk business selling a variety of things.

Earthen pots, pictures of deities , favourite film stars, utensils made of bronze, copper, iron and stainless steel, farm implements from ploughshares to bells for the animals, hand woven ropes, saris of rainbow hues moving gently in the breeze hung on hooks of the makeshift shops .

On the other side the aroma of fresh spices like cloves, black pepper, cinnamon sticks, carrom seeds, and variety of chillies of all sizes and the acrid taste which was good enough to burn the tongue ,at the first touch attracted women who would love to hoard the spices till the next Car festival.

A little farther a whole lot of eateries which included sweets , syrupy rasgulla and Gulabjamun( translation in English would spoil the taste) and one can’t ignore the huge fried papads arranged in huge cane baskets making ‘chomp chomp’ noise while munching. The ice lollies with colourful syrup bottles would attract all foodie.

But for girls like Pihu and Beena , all that mattered was the toys section. Bows and arrows made from bamboo, draped with shiny colour papers, ‘Gada’ or Mace made from coconut shells, swords carved out of wood and masks of different deities made of paper and coloured with bright paints attracted the boys.

Girls were attracted to dolls made of bamboo, wood or cow dung mixed with mud and straw. Variety of ‘kitchen sets ‘that‘s what they were called , made of either copper, aluminium, wood or cane. The ‘ kitchen set’ would usually have two pans, two plates, one small stove, roller pin, a pair of tongs, a water pot and few cups.

Every little girl would always buy one kitchen set and played hours cooking food using , leaves , sand and little pebbles. Of all the dolls the most popular ones were the dolls made from cow dung , mud and straw. The unique feature of these dolls was , they were sold only during ‘Car festival’ light weight , straight arms , no legs , only supported by round base. Painted with bright colours and the huge black eyes as if they applied some home made kohl and one sharp nose. The price was affordable . The dolls were always sold in pairs.

Pihu and Beena always bought the pair of dolls. They named the dolls and draped them with saris which were pieces of left out cloth from the neighbourhood tailor shop and decorated them with jewellery made up of beads or flowers. Both the girls played hours together with the dolls and also with the ‘ kitchen set’ which was gifted by Pihu ‘s uncle.

The nine days passed like nine winks and Pihu would bid adieu to her friend. They had a silent contract that alternate year they would keep the pair of dolls and new pair the coming year would be kept by the other. The last pair was kept by Beena. The wait was too long and Pihu was excited that this time it was her turn to get a new pair of dolls. The bus stopped. So also Pihu’s thoughts. A smile reached her lips thinking of all those pairs of dolls she treasured at her home.

Only one pair was lost when she left them in the garden and a heavy rain that night completely washed away the dolls and all that was left the next morning was two little heaps of coloured cow dung mixed with mud. She cried almost for a week till her mother assured her to buy another pair in the next fair. After eight long hours of journey the snail bus reached the town. Already the town wore a festive look since the ‘Car Festival’ would begin the next day.

Pihu , who checked into her relative’s home waited for the long night to dissolve and welcome the morning to meet Beena. Both the girls now young women met at the designated place - the temple.

The trinity deities were already on their respective chariots. Thousands of people were moving in a disciplined way along the chariots. Beena and Pihu were happy and anxious to buy their pair of those crude dolls made up of cow dung, straw and mud.

The regular shops, stalls and shacks were as usual. Only the ’Wares’ had changed. There were mobile phones, compact discs of B grade movies, watches and cheap electronic gadgets adorned the shops.

Mixer grinders, pressure cooker, non stick pans and pots took over the earthen pots.

The traditional sweets and savouries were replaced by instant noodles, pizza, chocolates ,biscuits and aerated drinks. Milk ice cream was served in cones or cups. Popcorn and cotton candy replaced the fried peanuts and sugarcane juice.

Puzzled, the ladies moved to the their favourite toy shop. The bows and arrows made out of bamboo were replaced by cheap recycled plastic. The masks of deities were taken over by Spider-Man, Bat- man and other funny cartoon characters , all made out of plastic. No more wooden swords or coconut mace could be seen but replicas of guns and pistols attracted little boys.

Beena and Pihu looked in the doll section. The same evil plastic everywhere. Thin dolls called Barbie, dolls with blue eyes which close and open their eyes with straw colour hair were in demand. The kitchen sets were also made of plastic had an additional miniature mixer grinder, refrigerator and tea cups.

“ We are looking for dolls made from cow dung,straw and mud”, said Beena and Pihu in unison. The sales girl gave a funny look and other youngsters around started giggling. Both the ladies felt embarrassed. Their plight was like that of Rip Van Winkle, who drank the magic potion in the forest and slept to wake up , to realise that twenty long years had passed and no one to recognise him. People started staring at the duo.

They left the shop quickly and moved towards Beena’s home. Beena went to her closet and took out the last pair of dolls. The dolls were still draped in the rags picked from the neighbourhood tailor shop. The kohl eyes and the sharp nose the straight arms looked so attractive for these women.

Beena’s seven year old daughter suddenly came into the room. Like a hawk and grabbed the dolls from her mother’s hand.

“ Oh dear, you never showed these funny dolls to me ever. Look at them! They look so ugly with yellow face, straight hands, no legs and rags covering their body. But of course they are so lightweight. I can throw up and catch them”, saying she threw the pair up but the alert Pihu caught them before they hit the floor.

Beena admonished her daughter and kept the dolls back in the closet.

Both the friends were restless and hardly slept a wink. The fair didn’t hold any attraction for them. They realised that plastic had invaded their homes, and now even destroyed their childhood dream of holding their favourite dolls made of the cow dung, straw and mud.

“ You silly girl ! what are you doing?” Literally yanking the arm of her daughter, Beena shouted at her seven year old. The girl was dipping the dolls in a bucket of water. In her nervousness the child dropped the dolls in the bucket and sobbing, told her mother, “ I was trying to clean the dolls , the way I do with my barbie.”

Pihu jumped from her chair and put her hand into the bucket to retrieve the dolls. The two straight hands of the dolls already melted and in the place of nose all that remained was a hole. The black kohl dripped from the eyes like tears.

Both the friends could not utter a word. They didn’t understand whether they missed the precious dolls, or the traditional art of making the dolls, or the childhood memories of the beautiful fair...

September 30, 2020 17:35

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2 comments

Devinder Kumar
15:02 Oct 18, 2020

Unbelievably vivid description of the childhood memories, traditions and at the same time highlighting the invasion of our lives by so called plastic. Compelled to ponder do we really need this development. Wish my 2 daughters could live those moments.

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Gm Sreenivas
04:26 Oct 05, 2020

PFirst half i was happy with those nice memories and later half made me sad. It is true today's fair which sell nothing but junk and not in sync with with nature. Creativity of children has been snatched away by this plastic which are manufactured and not hand made. Sreedeviji you again with your simple language brought out my favorite rural picture which is far more colorful and creative. Hope your story inspire many readers to bring back old traditional toys back in fairs and shops. Jai Hind.

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