If the White Desert is magic, then Rann Utsav is a festival living inside that magic.

The moment we entered the tent area, everything felt alive. Bright fabrics hung everywhere. Music floated in from different corners. People laughed, kids ran freely, and the smell of food followed us wherever we went. It was overwhelming at first — but in the happiest way.

I tried on a mirror-work choli, and the lady helping me smiled with such warmth, it felt like she already knew me. She looked at me and said, “Beta, Gujarat ke rang sabse pyaare hote hain.”

She was right. The colors here don’t just stay on clothes. They jump at you, dance around you, and somehow make you smile back.

“Beta, Gujarat ke rang sabse pyaare hote hain.”
(Child, Gujarat’s colors are the most beautiful.)

Papa bought me a tiny embroidered purse. The man who stitched it told us it took him three days to make. Three whole days for something that fits in my hand. I kept touching the threads, feeling every tiny stitch, wondering how much patience it takes to create something so small, yet so perfect

Everywhere I looked, there was effort. Craft. Pride. And so many warm smiles — the kind that don’t ask where you’re from.

Rann Utsav felt like someone pressed pause on the rest of the world and turned up the volume on joy.

And for a little while, I didn’t want to leave that feeling behind.

Rann Utsav turned up the volume on joy —
and I never wanted to leave that feeling behind.

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