The winter morning was still wrapped in a thin veil of fog when the sun began to rise, spreading a pale golden glow across the village field. The open ground had transformed overnight—colorful pavilions stood in neat rows, fabric banners fluttered softly in the cold air, and bold letters stretched across the entrance announcing: "Winter Festival 1928." Small lights twinkled from tree branches like captured stars, while old-style melodies played through the loudspeakers, giving the strange feeling that the village had stepped into another world for a single day.
Headmaster Henry moved around the grounds in a white coat, a checklist in his hand, calmly organizing who would participate in which competition and who would judge. Children's laughter echoed everywhere, mixing with the earthy scent of the soil and the crisp winter breeze, creating an atmosphere filled with excitement that felt both innocent and deeply alive.
The festival began with the running competition. On one side of the field stood Riven, Leo, Raiyan, and Selim, laughing and joking with one another. The moment the bamboo whistle sounded, they sprinted forward, dust rising beneath their feet as villagers cheered loudly, shouting Riven's name with unrestrained enthusiasm. When the race ended, Riven crossed the finish line first, sweat tracing lines down his face, yet his expression remained calm, marked by a quiet, confident smile.
Next came the swimming competition. Morning sunlight shimmered across the murky river as Riven removed his clothes and stepped into the water, his body catching the light in a way that made several onlookers pause. Some of the girls stared silently, others whispered among themselves, barely hiding their curiosity. In the water, Riven moved with a different rhythm—lifting his head briefly to breathe before cutting through the river again toward the shore. Once more, he emerged victorious, greeted by thunderous applause from the villagers. From a distance, Zara watched him, her eyes holding a mixture of awe and shy admiration.
The children's games followed, including the marble-and-spoon race, where Kelly claimed victory. Then came the elders' competition—the blind pot-breaking game. Steven, Riven's uncle, the old fisherman Neil, and several others stumbled around laughing uncontrollably, until Neil finally shattered the pot, sending the crowd into another wave of laughter.
Nearby, Raiyana—Riven's mother—along with his aunt and the elderly women of the village, were busy preparing traditional rice cakes. Steam rose into the air, carrying the warm scent of cooked rice, and the sweetness of fresh pitha spread through the festival grounds. Everyone ate together afterward—hot cakes, warm tea, shared stories, and laughter carrying the afternoon gently toward its end.
As evening arrived, the sun dipped low and the sky ignited with fireworks. Colorful smoke drifted over the hills as explosions of light painted the darkness. I dressed in a red panjabi with white pajama pants, a gray shawl draped over my shoulders. Zara looked breathtaking. Riven couldn't take his eyes off her, and with every passing moment, his attraction toward her felt like a dam slowly breaking.
Zara wore a radiant red saree paired with a deep green blouse and a matching red lehenga. Silk-and-glass bangles adorned her wrists, a small tip rested on her forehead, and earrings swayed gently by her ears—every ornament amplifying her beauty. Smiling softly, she said our outfits matched today. I simply nodded, unable to find words.
Whispering, Zara said, "The view from the hill is beautiful." Riven walked beside her in silence, their footsteps barely audible against the cold grass. When they reached the top, they stopped. Below them, the entire village glowed like a constellation scattered across the earth, thousands of lights shimmering together.
The festival of lights began. One firework, then another, then countless bursts tore through the darkness, blooming like colorful roses in the sky. It felt as if the stars themselves had descended to earth. Riven and Zara stood absorbed in the spectacle until the world suddenly grew quiet, time slowing to a fragile stillness. Zara turned her head, her gaze sinking into Riven's eyes, and in a moment beyond language, driven by impulse rather than intention, they shared a kiss—lips meeting like two rivers merging at a single point. At the same time, in the real world, Jason's pants had become wet.
The instant their lips parted, the air seemed to freeze. Fireworks exploded in the distance, their light blending across their faces, casting a strange warmth between them. Zara lowered her eyes, her body stiffening as if struck by sudden guilt. Her red saree fluttered in the cold breeze, and the gentle embarrassment resting against her green blouse was impossible to miss. She took a hesitant step back, fear, confusion, and shame mixing into an unfamiliar expression.
Before I could say anything, she whispered shakily, "I… I should go… everyone's calling."
Her voice trembled, the words dissolving into the night air. She descended the hillside, the edge of her saree flowing behind her, her embarrassment deepening with every step. I remained there, standing still, watching until the smoke from the fireworks cleared and only her fading silhouette remained.
The night grew quieter. The fireworks had faded, but a different light continued to burn within me.
Back at the fairgrounds, the festival was in full swing. Strings of lights—red, blue, green, gold—hung everywhere, blinking as people passed beneath them. At the center stood a massive tent, drums, flutes, and horns echoing from within. Crowds filled the space with laughter, conversation, and constant movement. The women's stalls were the most crowded—bangles, tips, wooden combs, alta, handmade jewelry displayed in neat rows. Mother, Aunt, Zara, and Kelly browsed together. Nearby were demon-style masks shaped like tigers, bears, ancient kings, paper kites, folded birds, paper flowers, and glowing lanterns that rustled softly when the wind passed. Children ran off happily clutching their purchases.
Toy stalls displayed wooden cars, spinning tops, small lions, and clay dolls scattered across tables. The scent of food filled the air—fuchka, hot jalebi, yogurt with flattened rice, mashed vegetables—each step introducing a new aroma. Father, Uncle, Raiyan, and I tasted everything we could.
The largest crowd gathered around the puppet show. On a grand stage built like a wooden house, puppeteers controlled kings, queens, soldiers, and a mischievous tiger. The narration was so entertaining that the entire fair shook with laughter—children sitting in front, adults clapping from behind.
Farther away, near the pond, Fahim and Fahmida fed turtles with spoons. The turtles surfaced slowly, making soft sounds as they accepted the food.
As the night deepened, the lights of the fair gradually dimmed. A calm glow settled over the village. After a day filled with celebration, people began returning home—and so did we. In this way, the day of the festival came to an end.