The Surajkund International Crafts Mela is held every year for 15 days, usually during the first two weeks of February, in Faridabad. It is organized by the Surajkund Mela Authority and Haryana Tourism, in collaboration with the Union Ministries of Tourism, Textiles, Culture, and External Affairs. One of the largest crafts fairs in the world, the mela has been held since 1987 and will turn 40 next year.I have been visiting the fair for years now and have seen it in many forms. There were years when it felt quite lacklustre, and then there were years when I skipped it altogether because it seemed repetitive. But this year was different. The fair felt not only far more widespread but also noticeably more international and diverse. It was well-decorated and beautifully planned. Despite being extremely crowded, there seemed to be enough space for people to do what they liked. Yes, there were areas that drew heavier crowds than usual—especially the food courts—but even those felt relatively well managed, with food counters and joints spread across multiple locations.
However, the most attractive part of the fair was definitely the rides. They added an additional charm with their giant lights, speed, and energy. Around the rides, there was almost another mela of its own—food vendors everywhere, families and groups standing around, people laughing, chatting, and watching their loved ones enjoy the rides. There was a festive warmth in simply standing there and soaking it all in.This Saturday, I reached the mela late, towards the evening. After loitering around for a while, I stood at the edge of the stairs, watching the mesmerizing rides. As I stood there, trying to click pictures from different angles, I couldn’t quite find the right one. The rides appeared too far. I climbed down the stairs, asking my husband and son to stay back till I returned. The rides were in a separate portion of the ground which was an extension of the mela. I walked a few steps towards the fateful Tsunami ride and looked around for a few minutes soaking in the festivities, the lights and the infectious joy around. I turned back and went a few steps ahead to position myself at a spot from where I could click the photos and then suddenly there was a deafening sound—almost like thunder. There was a band playing nearby, and it felt as though the sound was swallowed by the chaos, as if the wind had swept everything back.There was sudden confusion. I didn’t know what exactly had happened. After recovering from the shock, I moved a little closer and saw people running to help, some trying to hold the ride with their bare hands to allow people to escape. The ride carrying 18-19 people had crashed down! What! I was transfixed for a few moments; I didn’t know what to do. My first instinct was to run back, but then I could not ignore the loud cries of help. I ran forward, but an already assembled crowd stopped my way...and then there was another thud, followed by massive shrieks. I was close enough to notice blood and loud cries of pain. Someone pushed me from behind, and I retreated. But stood trembling for I don’t know how long.For a while, I couldn’t comprehend what had actually happened. It took time to understand. The ride I had been trying to capture at the perfect angle had collapsed. I never got that perfect shot—and I wondered how people manage to film accidents in moments like these.Later, I learned that a total of 13 people were injured in the swing collapse, and one person—an SHO who rushed in to help—lost his life when the second part of the swing collapsed. People at the fair said that the swing had earlier been banned because a similar accident had occurred years ago, and that it was being operated again for the first time when this happened. The vendor is based in Himachal Pradesh and had been chosen to run it.What stayed with me was not just the noise or the fear, but the sudden shift-from celebration to tragedy in a matter of seconds. One moment, people were laughing under bright lights; the next, they were running, screaming, trying to save strangers. The fair continued around us, but something had irrevocably changed. I walked away knowing I had witnessed not just an accident, but the fragile line between joy and disaster. Life changes…completely…in just a few moments!
