Ramayan ki Ramleela Days: About Swings, Sweets, and Stories
As Navratri 2024 swings into full gear and everyone’s busy picking out the flashiest lehengas and arranging passes for the hottest dandiya nights in town, my heart drifts back to the innocent days of Ramayan ki Ramleela— Ah, those were the days, weren’t they? I still remember the excitement that would bubble up inside me as the calendar flipped closer to the season of Ramleela. The air had a different buzz to it, like something magical was about to unfold right in front of our eyes. We, as kids, would eagerly count down the days, waiting for that moment when the ramayan ki Ramleela would be organized in the close neighborhood.
The thrill was contagious, spreading like wildfire through the lanes as we raced to secure the best spots in the front row. We’d grab our friends, rush over, and plop ourselves down on the rugs, hoping to get as close to the stage as possible. In those days, we didn’t worry about flashy passes for dandiya nights or booking the perfect spot at some concert. No, our excitement was simpler—and so much more pure. It was all about ramayan ki Ramleela.
The moment the actors took the stage, the anticipation was electric. The Ramleela wasn’t just a one-day affair; it stretched across several nights, with each episode pulling us deeper into the story of Lord Ram’s journey. It built our tender excitement in the most gradual, heart-thumping way. Every day was another chapter unfolding, another reason to rush back to the grounds and claim our seats.
I still vividly recall the moment Lord Ram would step onto the stage. The audience, including us kids, would clap so hard that our palms would sting. It didn’t matter, though—seeing “Lord Ram” was worth every ache in our hands. And when “Ravan” entered, with his thunderous demonic laughter, I’ll admit, we’d shrink a little in our seats, only to laugh about it later with our friends. There was something enchanting about watching their epic duel, knowing that good was going to triumph over evil. Even though we knew the outcome, the thrill of watching Lord Ram finally defeat the mighty Ravan never got old.
The moral of the story—satyamev jayate—truth always triumphs over evil, resonated with us long after the curtain fell. Even as kids, it wasn’t just a story; it felt like a celebration of righteousness, something that sank deep into our growing minds.
And once the Ramayan ki Ramleela performance ended, the real fun would begin. The mela was waiting for us with its vibrant lights, buzzing stalls, and whirling swings. We’d make a beeline for our favorite rides, clutching our friends’ hands, trying not to lose anyone in the sea of people. The swings were always the most exciting, their motion making us feel like we were soaring through the skies, just like we imagined Lord Ram’s arrows did.
Then, of course, came the irresistible food. My mouth waters even now at the thought of the crispy pakoras, spicy chhole, and sweet jalebis that we devoured. It was a feast of savory and sweets that we couldn’t resist—though more often than not, we’d stuff ourselves until our tummies ached. And yet, no matter how full we got, there was always room for more.
Ah, the toys! How could I forget those? There were always those toy stalls, with their colorful trinkets that glittered under the flickering lights of the fair. My siblings and I would immediately start our mission: convincing our father to buy us that one perfect toy. Sometimes it was a wooden sword like the one Lord Ram used, sometimes a spinning top or a shiny plastic whistle. Whatever it was, we treasured it as though it had come straight from the heavens.
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When our legs could no longer carry us through the fair, and our stomachs were full to bursting, my dad would lift me onto his shoulders. Oh, the joy of being up there! From that height, the whole world looked different. The sea of people stretched out beneath me like tiny figurines, and the lights of the mela twinkled in a way that felt magical. I felt like I was on top of the world, with a view that was only mine.
But the adventure didn’t stop there. As we made our way back home, tired but exhilarated, I’d start hatching a new plan. “Today Dad took me to the mela,” I’d whisper to myself, “but tomorrow, I’ll convince chacha to take me again.” There was always someone in the family to plead with, and, more often than not, they’d give in. After all, who could resist the innocent charm of a child’s excitement?
I also remember how the evenings felt just a little cooler during that time of year. After the sweltering summer months, there was a hint of coolness in the air that made everything more comfortable, more enjoyable. It was the perfect weather to lose yourself in the joy of the mela, munching on snacks and soaking in the warmth of the lights and laughter around you.
Looking back now, it feels like a world apart. These days, we’re more likely to fret about getting passes for dandiya nights or plan our outings around shiny, packaged events. But nothing quite compares to the simplicity and magic of those ramayan ki ramleela nights, where excitement wasn’t about flashing lights or glamorous costumes—it was about the story, the togetherness, and the joy of being part of something timeless. I miss those days!
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