Sammi, Sara and the Clever Journey to the Mela

Sammi was a cheerful boy of eight, with bright eyes that always sparkled with curiosity. His elder sister, Sara, was ten years old, sensible yet playful. They both lived in a quiet little village called Sapoinali in Odisha. Their house stood at the edge of the village, surrounded by wide green paddy fields and tall mango trees.

Every December, after the harvest season ended, there was a grand mela in the nearby village Bagdia. Bagdia was just three kilometres away, but the road to it was lonely. It stretched through empty fields and scattered trees, and at night, it often felt mysterious.

The mela was something that every child waited for. There would be stalls with hot pakoras and jalebis, brightly painted merry-go-rounds, puppet shows, and folk dances with drums and songs that echoed in the air. Sammi and Sara had been waiting eagerly for it all year.

“Papa, you will take us to Bagdia mela tomorrow, na?” Sammi had asked his father, his voice filled with excitement.

His father had smiled, patting Sammi’s head. “Of course, beta. I will take you both on my bicycle. We will eat sweets and ride the merry-go-round.”

The children’s eyes glittered with joy. They couldn’t stop talking about what they would do, which games they would play, and which treats they would eat.

The day of the mela came. The December evening was cool, and the sun dipped low behind the fields. Sammi and Sara waited eagerly near the gate of their house. But as the shadows grew longer, their father did not return. A messenger from the market came and told them that their father had been delayed by some urgent work.

Sammi’s heart sank. Sara looked disappointed. “What shall we do now?” she whispered, her face dull.

The two children went inside to their grandmother, who was sitting near the courtyard lamp, spinning cotton. “Aaji,” Sara said softly, “we want to go to Bagdia mela. Papa cannot come. Will you come with us?”

Grandmother looked at them with worry. “My dear ones, the road is not safe at night. I have heard of thieves hiding along the path. They trouble those who travel without a strong elder to protect them. They wait in the shadows for helpless people.”

Sammi felt a little frightened, but his excitement for the mela was stronger. He thought for a while and suddenly his face lit up. “Aaji,” he said, eyes gleaming with an idea, “what if we trick them? They cannot see clearly in the dark, right? What if we make them think Papa is with us?”

Grandmother raised her eyebrows in surprise. “And how will you do that?”

Sammi grinned. “I will keep calling out, ‘Papa, how far is Bagdia?’ And you, Aaji, must answer in a deep man’s voice. The thieves will hear and think Papa is with us.”

Sara clapped her hands in delight. “Yes, yes! That is clever, Sammi!”

Grandmother hesitated for a moment. She worried for the children’s safety. But when she saw their glowing faces and remembered how much they had waited, she finally nodded. “All right, but you both must walk close to me, and no running ahead.”

Two children and an elderly grandmother walking together

So, the three of them began their journey under the soft silver light of the moon. The fields on both sides rustled quietly, and the mango trees stood like tall guards. The road was empty, and their footsteps echoed softly.

After a little while, Sammi called out loudly, “Papa, how far is Bagdia now?”

Grandmother, clearing her throat, answered in a deep voice, “Just a little more, beta, keep walking.”

Sara giggled softly but quickly covered her mouth, afraid the thieves might hear.

From behind a cluster of trees, in the unseen darkness, some men were indeed hiding. They had planned to scare travellers that night. But when they heard the boy calling out to his “Papa” and a strong man’s voice replying, they grew cautious.

One of them whispered, “There is a man with them. Better not risk it. Let us wait for someone else.”

Thus, Sammi’s clever trick saved them. The children walked on, sometimes repeating the play. Each time Sammi asked, “Papa, are we near Bagdia?” grandmother replied in her best manly tone, “Almost there, beta, don’t worry.”

The road slowly widened, and soon they saw the bright lamps of Bagdia glowing in the distance. Drums, laughter, and happy voices floated in the night air.

When they entered the mela, Sammi’s heart jumped with joy. The whole ground was filled with colours, lights, and music. Sara ran to see the merry-go-round, which spun with children squealing in delight. Their grandmother smiled at their happiness, her earlier worry fading.

They bought piping hot pakoras, crunchy sugar-coated groundnuts, and shared a plate of jalebis, sticky and sweet. Sammi rode the merry-go-round twice, laughing each time as the wooden horses went up and down. Sara enjoyed a puppet show, clapping her hands when the puppets danced.

The night was full of cheer and sparkle. The children forgot their fears completely.

Colourful village mela scene with children and grandmother

They stayed at the mela until late night. When the lamps started dimming, they decided to rest there and return home early in the morning. The next day, when the sun was shining brightly, they walked back without any worry of thieves.

At home, their father had already returned. He was anxious at first, but when the children narrated the whole adventure — how they had fooled the thieves with their grandmother’s deep voice — he laughed with pride. “My little ones are very clever! But remember, safety is most important. I am happy you enjoyed the mela, but always be careful.”

Sammi and Sara promised, nodding sincerely. Their grandmother smiled, patting their heads gently.

Moral of the Story

Clever thinking and teamwork can help us in difficult situations, but we must also value safety and use wisdom in every adventure.