Nu Nu Si Inwa - Smile and be kicked, laugh and be kicked.

Now that the festival season has arrived, the surroundings around the Taung Pyin Junction are often filled with a sense of nostalgia. A long line of colorful cars has begun to line the Taung Pyin Junction, which branches off the Mandalay-Mattara highway.

The Waso wind blowing at the fork in the road was also wild and beautiful.

The Waso Wakaung wind that caused the water to rise caused the brownish-yellow water to overflow along the canal next to the fork. The water, the rain, the festival, moved the minds of the people on the fork. It made them happy. It made them feel free and light.

I could hear the melodious cries of some young people on the roof of the passenger bus, and the whispering prayers of women, young and old, inside the crowded bus.

The women, young and old, who were sitting comfortably in their own small cars, held their children in their arms and stood in awe.

On the left side of the road, there was a long line of children, as if welcoming a large convoy of cars.

They each have sunburned skin.

Each of us wore dirty, black clothes.

They are constantly shouting in different tones, "Money please!"

Their faces were full of hope as they looked at the people in the line of cars.

They are waiting with wide eyes for the banknotes that will fall from the cars. As soon as the banknotes fall from a car, they gather around and start stealing them.

At that time, the phone rings often cover the intersection, and there are also sounds of car brakes and panicked screams.

Some children, who were struggling to get under the wheel while clutching the crumpled paper money, laughed as if nothing had happened. But they had bruises all over their bodies. Their eyes were filled with fear.

There were some adults and children shouting and begging for money. There were drunken drunkards and a group of women coming out of the fields at the crossroads.

Drunk drivers stood in the middle of the road, waving their fingers and blinking their eyes, stopping cars, while a group of women, like a rope, stopped them. When the car slowed down, they started dancing around, shouting "Money, please!" and clapping their hands.

The long line of children continued unabated until they reached the fork in the road.

At the end of the fork in the road is Taungpyung Village. There is a large festival ground.

But with the festival-goers, the festival stalls have completely covered the small village of Taung Pyin. The small village of Taung Pyin has become a huge festival ground.

The long line of cars that had been slowly driving along the intersection were all taking their places. Small private cars drove into large yards to drop off their cars, and large passenger buses drove into large parking lots.

As soon as you get out of the car, you can see the umbrella of the Pyaung Pyi Pagoda amidst the crowded festival stalls, but you can't hear the pagoda's bells amidst the terrifying noise of the festival.

At this prayer-filled pagoda built and worshipped by King Anawrahta of Bagan, his two grandsons, Shwe Phing Gyi and Shwe Phing Nge, were executed by his father King Anawrahta because they failed to complete two bricks of the service.

The executed Shwe Phing Gyi and Shwe Phing Nge Min Nyi Naung were hanged to prevent them from leaving the palace when King Anawrahta was in a dispute with the palace. They claimed that they were hanged because they had only served the king but did not receive any benefits. King Anawrahta built a shrine near the Pyaung Pyaung Pagoda in Taung Ping and had people offer offerings.

Inside the pagoda, there are two empty spaces between two gold-plated bricks. Many people are crowding to pay homage to this small space.

The central road of Taung Pyin village is crowded with stalls selling traditional Myanmar pastries, cakes, and pastries. The aroma of cakes and pastries that are often sold at the festival is mixed with the scent of makeup, lipstick, and perfume from the female market vendors.

You can also find a long row of custom-made bars that make you dizzy just reading the names.

Mandalay Yee Moo Moo Lay, Yis Hat Gyi, Kapyay Maly Goya Rum, Cha Cha Yan, and many more.

When we reached the railway crossing beyond the bar, the crowd was so large that it was impossible to move. The train was approaching, so we had to stand near the railway gate. The sweat from the crowd, standing under the sudden heat of the sun, could have turned into a small stream. The fierce wind of the Waso festival, which had been following us all along the road, seemed to have run back to the road, fearing the festival leader.

The Mandalay-Mattara train, so crowded with people that the train body could not be seen, slowly entered Taung Pyin Station. The shouts and calls of the people crowded on the roof, inside the train, and on the platform mingled with the sounds of the festival.

As the train passed, the crowd continued to move along the festival road. What was special was that in the moving crowd, there were no more boys calling girls sons, wives, girlfriends, or flirting with them like in the past. In the past, when young girls were seen at the festival, the cries of young men and women, “Hey, my love,” filled the entire festival.

"My love, I've been waiting here for so long, don't be so rude."

"Don't pout your lips, my love, it's not pretty. Try smiling, my love."

"I'm here, my love. Are you upset because I'm late? Don't be so stubborn... I'm not a bad person, my love."

Girls have a hard time laughing, a hard time being angry, and some are a little bit shy and shy. The boys put the big baby dolls in front of the girls and said, "Hey, you