‘Jaha Pipara Uha Bayal, Jaha Baji Uha Ryal‘ means where there is a peepal tree, there is wind, and where there is a Baji (Indian immigrant), there is fun. This Tharu proverb was quite relevant here at one time. Although the educational center was in Tikapur, we had to go to Rajapur in Bardiya to buy books and notebooks.

Kailali’s Katase, Satti, Bhajani, and Munwa were commercial centers. Locals were always there, but these were largely the main destinations for people coming from the hills to shop. And there were the Bajis who made the markets lively, and there were the Sarkari Salis (everyone’s sisters-in-law) of Anantapur, which is connected to Rajapur and Bisna Kantipur, who quenched the perverted thirst of the hedonistic landlords. Tharus called Indians “Baji,” and sex workers were called “Sarkari Sali.”

The same Bajis were the ones who sold bangles and bindis and bought the farmers’ grains. They were also the lenders who relieved the farmers’ distress. They would give loans and supplies on the condition of receiving a harvest according to the season. Once the crops were ready, long lines of oxcarts carrying the highly desired grains would queue up toward Satti and Rajapur, with the sellers singing Sajna-Maina.

The ones who, relying on the local landlords, invited performers to set up fairs in Nepal’s border areas after the Ramlila concluded in Indian markets like Lakhimpur, Bareilly, Paliya, and Tikuniya were also the Bajis. This was not the era of large-scale festivals. The main source of entertainment was Hindi videos shown using VCR tape supply reels brought from Tikuniya. Friends would share stories from the fair and the film. The author would listen, playing the role of an obedient son. The tall tales they spun made my heart leap like a bouncing football. I wanted to go see the fair today, right away, or tomorrow. But what was to be done?

At home, there was Father’s military rule. Except for rare occasions, there was absolutely no permission to go out at night.

Watching the drama, improv, and dance shows that happened at night was like chasing stars in the sky. Friends in the village would carry a khatouli (shoulder pole) and go watch the dances late at night. The ‘Teen Bhatari’ (three husbands) dance from Sitapur was very famous then. People came from far and wide to watch the performance. Whether it was Teen Bhatari or Char Bhatari (four husbands) performed with dialogues in broken Hindi—I wasn’t allowed to watch them anyway! We three brothers would be huddled with Grandmother on a luxurious haystack bed.

I had only heard the name of the fair from friends but had never seen one. The fair was held in Rajapur. It was also held in Satti. But the one everyone talked about was the Daharabiriya’s ko ‘Raunak’ fair. Meaning, the Ravanwadh Mela (Slaying of Ravan fair)! Padana Jimdar used to organize the fair on the banks of the Patharaiya River. Artists from Munni Company/Gappu Company would come to stage drama and improv. Young boys and girls would go to watch the fair, filling bullock carts with straw and making loud noise. Some would walk. Farmers, free after harvesting the rice, would not miss the fifteen-day fair. Others might have gone to watch the Ramlila, but the Tharus went to see the ‘Raunak’ fair.

The mesmerizing atmosphere of the fair possessed me. Around 1983/1984, when I was in class six or seven, I persistently coaxed and persuaded my grandmother one day. I asked for money to see the fair. She probably didn’t have money. She would say, “Go to the silos and take as much paddy as you need.” I would fill a sack with paddy. With the help of the very close Undu Uncle, the sack of paddy reached Munuwa market. It was sold at the Baji or Bajiya’s stall for Rs 25. What was there to wait for? I didn’t feel my feet touching the ground. My pockets were full of cash. We immediately reached the fairground in Daharabiriya.

My body, immersed in the light of kerosene lamps, saw a lot of things for the first time. I entered a dazzling new world with the twinkling lights of an engine attached to the back of a tractor. I saw Rauna—a gigantic Ravan made of straw. I saw the dancers—some men with beards and mustaches and others dressed as women! The loudspeaker was heavily warming up the stage.

Jhumka gira re jhumka gira re Bareilly ke bajaar me jhumka gira re, which is a very popular Hindi song back in the day meaning My earring fell down in the market of Bareilly.

Who did what business in the jam-packed fair? We had no time to keep records. Those searching for the ‘earring that fell in the market of Bareilly’ stayed there. My uncle and I headed toward the market, the dazzling market. A temporary fair of Sarkari Salis (sex workers) was also held in the garden area for those looking for that kind of pleasure.

My eyes were dazzled by the market lights. Without consulting my uncle, I bought two silk handkerchiefs. My uncle got angry.

We returned to watch Rauna again. The dancers continued their performance, and the showerers continued to shower money.

Those who were cold were warming their hands over a straw fire. We put a 25 paisa betel nut, or paan preparation, in our mouths and headed home. Paan in the mouth, silk handkerchiefs around the neck! The swagger was something else.

It was not yet light when we reached home. Fearing my father would find out, my uncle and I didn’t sleep inside the house. Having watched the fair all night, we slept late. When we woke up, strands of straw were hanging all over our heads. We were in a hurry to repay Grandmother’s favor. The silk handkerchiefs I showed Grandmother turned out to be just an old saree’s cut piece.

The lingering charm of that paan, the Daharabiriya’s silk handkerchiefs, and the fun of the Raunak fair still persist!