A Day of Stolen Freedom

We could visit two fairs organised in Durgapur on the occasion of Rathayatra if our parents permitted us to go and gave us some money to spend on. My parents were very strict on these matters, and  never allowed me to visit the "Rath-er Mela of Chitralaya". They feared that of all kids, I would be the only one to get possibly kidnapped by a gang of kidnappers or "Cheledhoras" as we call them in Bengali. Their apprehensions made me a regular visitor in "Mamra Bazar's Rather Mela", the poor cousin of the one which took place at the Chitralaya ground. Nothing in that "Mamra Rather Mela" could excite me; the 'Rath' was a small one, the fair ground was quite small and the delicacies offered to please one's taste buds were also minimal. I used sadly accompany my parents with the sole hope of getting atleast hot "Jilipis" to eat as I was not allowed to taste the "Phuchkas". My father never failed to surprise us with buying some "Papad Bhajas" though. He believed that Rather Mela and Papad Bhajas are very very synonymous. So, this saga went on and like every dog which has its day, I too, got a chance to visit the "Chitralaya Rath-er Mela". I took admission in a reputed inter-college to pursue my +2 studies, and this college was a walking distance from the fair-ground. The classes started in the month of July and Rathayatra day also came nearer. I was super-excited of visiting the fair with my classmates and I had to lie to my over-protective Ma that I will be late due to practical classes. So, with all these preparations, I went to the fair managing to save some pocket money so that I could eat whatever my heart and eyes desired. But, as I entered the fair, I got dazed with its artificial grandeur. Too many stalls, too many people, too many rides and the new-found freedom took a toll on me. I could not decide what to do with my hard-earned freedom and the stingily saved pocket money. Every stall lured me to buy whatever they offered, every food stall lured me to eat whatever food they sold; there were at least 10 phuchkawala in my vicinity; I stayed unmoving. I started missing my "Mamra Rath-er Mela" suddenly. I started missing the restricted visits to the fair with my parents suddenly and I suddenly wanted to run away from the Mela ground. I quickly made up an excuse to my accompanying friends and ran to the bus-stop. I took the immediate bus to my home. As my home came nearer, I felt more relieved.  
I realized that day, that with freedom comes great responsibility and if I ever want freedom I should be able to decide judiciously as to what to do with the freedom without killing my conscience and gut-feeling.