Meet Nandini. She lives somewhere around this area. She is not very sure where. She can’t tell me anything more about herself and her family. But she knows one thing for sure - she likes pani puri. She has no idea what it is called; will she have dhokla? nahi. khandvi? nahi; she quickly dismissed these foolish offers I make in the assumption that the kid would like the less spicy things on offer. Yeh nahi, woh gol gol jo hota hai - her little fingers making whirring circles in the air… oh, the round things? realization dawns as I point to the kachori. She directs a withering look at me (how dumb can you get?, it says in loud tones and I duly wither), gives up attempts to explain and instead leads me confidently to the stall, her little hands in mine. She takes ages to eat the first puri - the tiny mouth can open only so big. So the panipuriwala fill the other puris, piles them up in a leaf cup and she takes them away to a corner by the tree to eat them in peace.

It is not like Nandini is taking liberties with a stranger. We know each other from last year’s KGAF, you see. In fact, she was featured on this blog quite prominently a couple of times last year, the little admirer who seated herself on the first row of whatever performance happened to be on at the rampart row stage. I did not know her name then, Nandini was small and shy and refused to speak to me, just a shy smile and reluctant pose for me every time we met. From coy side glances to withering looks in a year is a long way to travel.

I found her on the first evening of the festival among the bunch of kids lighting candles on the road as part of the street display by an NGO. She waved to me and posed with her candle, dropping it suddenly when the wax melted and flowed down her hands. Ouch. And my heart melted with it. Therefore the panipuri.

I am a sucker for kids (others’ kids, i.e. - those who can be sent back to their parents), my camera likes them a little more than I do. And kids sense that and pretend to like me so I take lots of pictures of them. Like this one (also featured earlier on this blog this year) - he was playing with other kids inside the helikoptook, he took one look at my camera and went pose pose pose, now sitting, now lying down, steady modelly smiles plastered on his face.

[click for larger size]

And then the unposed pictures… often the most interesting of them all…

When will the darned dance begin?

rang diya basanti and now I can’t get it off

And that is what I love about the Kala Ghoda Festival. Kids roaming around freely, loudly laughing at some of the sillier street installations (how I would like to do that!), peskily demanding kulfi and comic books, getting in everyone’s way and generally having a blast. I like to see them get bite-sized doses of culture watching classical dance performances, I like it when they get messy at the pottery and coloring workshops, when they listen to stories and watch people on stage wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Above all, I love the amount of work my camera gets at Kala Ghoda with the kids…