THE HARBINGER OF NOR'WESTER

Lights and the crowd

There existed no proper entrance to the fair. A number of shops was set up surrounding the pillars of whatever was built as a gateway. These owners were probably new this year, so all they could manage for a retail space was tarpaulins spread by the gate.

Vaibhav stood at the opposite side of the road. The highway laid right to left in front of him. The main fair grounds were a little further from the highway, with the entrance on the road itself.

Vaibhav unhooked the button on his tailored suit. Everyone he could see was either in casuals or in a dhoti punjabi. A Ferris wheel peeked from a distance emanating a halogen lights, one of them illuminating a stage that was situated somewhere behind the massive tents. The considerable feedback on the speaker irritated no one except Vaibhav.

"You are wearing a suit!" Sattu said walking up behind Vaibhav.

"I didn't know how unusual that is, before I came here!" Vaibhav answered with displeasure.

Sattu placed a comforting arm around Vaibhav's shoulders and said, "Yeah, suit will not make a good impression!" Sattu cringed looking down at his own punjabi and dhoti.

"I know", muttered Vaibhav, "It's just..."

"Come on, you will be fine. I believe there exists a whole other level to professionalism here, yours is too similar to an englishman, relax." Sattu circled his hands over Vaibhav while speaking and almost pushed Vaibhav across the highway.

Vaibhav crossed the road and walked in through the narrow entrance amidst the shops. They entered the alleyway, bordered by more shops and the customers that flocked before them. The woodwork and the imported plastic toys didn't attract Vaibhav, but the food did. The smell of frying oil overrode any aroma that the snacks possessed, but Vaibhav walked with his head turned.

A sudden increase in temperature brought Vaibhav back to his senses. He startlingly noticed a receding flame in front of his face. Vaibhav blinked twice and patted down to his shirt and over his pants, reassuring his existence. Then he noticed Sattu in a close conversation with a smoke coloured lad, laughing loudly.

Sattu turned towards Vaibhav and said, "Sir, this is my friend Mrinal. He is the .... fire guy. Mrinal, this is Vaibhav, he is from Kolkata. He is from Kolkata."

"Welcome Dada." Mrinal said cordially, "Welcome to my home."

Mrinal seemed happy to meet a new person, he didn't concern himself with Vaibhav's profession. He pulled Vaibhav aside and whispered, "You know Sattu wore that same punjabi three times in a row to impress guests like you." making a point of Satyanarayan hearing all of it.

Vaibhav raised his eyebrows and turned towards Sattu, "So you do this often, show people around?"

Sattu slid his hands into the pockets, taking a serious stance, almost like a professional tour guide in the streets of Kolkata, which looked very unprofessional on his part. Vaibhav felt less out of place with wearing a suit.

Vaibhav smiled as he turned again to talk to Mrinal. Then he noticed that the minstrel was already a few feet away entertaining another family. Their child seemed to find spitting fire magical.

"He is a serious showman!" Sattu urged Vaibhav to the central pandemonium. The stage was exactly as Vaibhav thought, too bright for him.

"At some point that child has to learn that fire is going to burn him!" said Vaibhav, making Sattu cringe again.

"Ahem ahem." the box speaker above rang loudly, "On behalf of Nandu da and the volunteers of the Sangsaptak club, I would like to wish everyone a happy Bengali new year may everyone be prosperous and happy this year......," the stage anchor's voice broke in between, "As you know none of us have been happy or prosperous of late. Conditions like this we don't even wish other people to be in joy either. Then again here we are...."

Sattu lead Vaibhav through the crowd in the pandemonium in the front of a makeshift stage. A few chairs lined up before the stage reserved for dignitaries, then came a long expanse of seated audiences and ultimately a red tape bordering an open space for those people left standing at last. Vaibhav and Sattu cut through the gathering crowd in the spaces to appear in the front line. Vaibhav stopped and looked at the anchor.

"..... celebrating Navabarsha. Celebrating the Bengali new year, new things in our life however mundane they may be!" the anchor came down the stage, "So let's begin by thanking Mrs Maryswan, our chairperson, wife of our club secretary Nandan Sikdar." the anchor trying to find her among the seated dignitaries, she was yet to arrive. The anchor went on introducing a few more people besides her.

Sattu pulled Vaibhav's arm. Vaibhav turned around and saw him pointing at the people seated in line with Mrs Maryswan. Lavishly dressed men and women looking at each other, while the larger audience looked at them.

"There's your seat! You need to go...." Sattu was cut off by the anchor's loud voice.

"...and ultimately, our star of the night." the anchor said making Vaibhav turn, "through the relentless efforts of our Inspector Bimal Hansda, he came here to lend a hand, to help us fight naxals," the anchor scanned the audience again, "Brothers and sisters, give a big hand for DR VAIBHAV ROY." the anchor exclaimed pointing his finger directly at Vaibhav.