Often, I see articles in prints about this picturesque place. A lot has been mentioned and written about it an it rightly deserves a spotlight. I fondly remember the place and its colours and those once a year visit to the fair.

Each year we kids used to look forward to the Tani Jubbar fair, it was listed as a Holiday in our school calendar. A day before, our gang after a heart fill of cricket would sit under the open starry sky and plan for the most important day that year. Every gang member had a suggestion to push – ‘when to start?’, ‘how much money to carry?’, ‘which route to take?’, ‘to walk or wait for the overcrowded bus or hitch a hike?’

Mom used to have a difficult time with me fussing about my clothes and the pocket money. I only insisted on wearing a new pair and nothing else and always demanded more pocket money on that special day. My demands were met only after I would promise and assure her that I would keep my little brother close and return home well before sunset and won’t venture too close to the lake.

A promise of exciting day ensured a sleepless night. I would peep from under the covers all night hoping to see some light through the window; my eagerness used to be met by my mothers admonishment. My mom would warn me of catching cold and was very firm to keep me tucked in till the sun was up.

On that day to everybody’s surprise I would be the first to jump into the bathroom for a nice scrub. And the remaining morning would be spent preening in front of the mirror – my little brother could never understand it.

The gang would group around my house. It would gradually increase in size as we moved through the village and then made our way through the forest trail. The excitement and exhilaration used to be palpable. We would fool around and enjoy the up hill climb through the sea of people to be greeted by the beautiful serene lake with ancient Nag Devta temple on the other end. We were in awe of this beautiful lake – a small placid shimmering lake surrounded by deodar tress on the northern and the southern slope and by apple orchards on the western and eastern front. We always loved coming back to see it.

One could see the bright coloured rezta/dhatu donned womenfolk’s with kids in tow. The place used to be filled with colours, smiles and the smell of cheap perfume. Groups and groups of womenfolk and kids would emerge from nowhere and then disappear in the crowd. The electric environment would rub on to everybody and we rarely saw a sad soul around.

The courting couple were a real delight to see and then there was the younger lot showing off to attract attention and the old folks catching up on the good old times. One could also catch sight of some tourist in the swank cars and inapt attires – we kids always had a laugh at them.

The day would be spent eating juicy jalabies, water melons, cheap ice candies and frolicking around. I was always scared to ride the swings and the wheels and admired the easy which which they were operated. Quite a time was also spent checking the toy guns at the hawkers before settling for a good one.

The most awaited moment used to be the arrival of the Deota (It is his festival), a mesmerising sight. He would be carried on his rath to the main ground preceded by the baja. The whole place was filled with an air of charm and divine blessing. As the day passed we weary kids would look for some shade in the slopes and on most occasions disturbed the courting couples. Later it was the nati that attracted us – everybody could be seen joining in irrespective of the cast and social standing. The day would get noisy with every passing hour and influx of the devotees and visitors. The evening was always reserved for the folk dance competition. A lull used to fall when it would start followed by cheers and applauds.

A blissful day would come to an end and remembering mom’s instructions we would regroup and make our way back home with the toy guns and memories and a promise to come back next year.

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