Village Church feast and fair
Village Church feast and fair A boy’s experiences of a Catholic festival in the mid-sixties in a village in Sri Lanka. Toy van and a fountain pen S oon after the festive mass, I thronged with the crowds, peeping into the stalls along the main road leading to our church. Temporary stalls full of toys, snacks, drinks, and household items were on either side of the road. My only interest was to secure a toy van from one of the makeshift stalls. The best toy van I could get with my money, a five rupee note deeply secured in my short pant pockets. Everyone was trying to move ahead, kids and adults. The village fair came to my hometown once a year. They wanted to enjoy every minute of it, moving slowly. Massive crowds everywhere. Peeking and creeping through the rd business for a ten-year-old. Determined I was, I kept on my mission to find my dream toy. I had waited for this day for a few months. I dreamt of my van every night, imagining its shape and colours. I peeped into a few stall...