Somethings go hand in hand. Like childhood and that special friend; college and your group/gang, your favourite haunts. Like Diwali and sparkling nights, Holi and colors – these festivals have always been a delight. As I think about my activities nearing such times, I perceive a glimpse of my 10-12 year old self with a mind in overdrive – irrational, mostly dysfunctional (in any useful way). Yet always full of thoughts.
Holi was a time of meticulous planning – vengeance unleashed on our neighborhood rivals, and a sordid affair of water balloons and other such arsenals. After a few painfully slow sunsets, the sun would rise a little too bright one morning, for the benefit of the poor passer-by for whom awaited a bucket of cold water poured out of nowhere. How we loved those grown-ups, cavorting in dry-colors, fresh meat for our water balloons! Holi isn’t all color, there’s lot of water mixed with it.
Times changed and my world expanded beyond the neighborhood. Soon there was the whole township, pools in the fountain park and the muddy patches that were only slightly better than pigpen once you were through dragging your victims’ faces and rear, in no certain order, through the mire. Poor poor souls… things were growing violent, infinitely dirtier and consequently a lot more fun.
As I dig through my earliest memories of childhood and growing up, these festivals have proved to be more of a punctuation in the continuity of my life – end of a phase, beginning of something fresh and unexplored. This time around, my holi was spent away from the home; the first of many for some time to come now. No home made delicacy off my mom’s hands awaited a famished and exhausted me. There was no scrubbing to do. Nor does a red tint linger over my countenance. And in spite of a million yearnings that escalate with the sight of multi-hued faces and colors spread over the roads, an inadvertent rangoli – equally beautiful to my eyes; it has turned out quite alright. Holi, I understand, isn’t all about colors, not even the water or the mud pools, but the people who wallow in it, willingly or otherwise and most importantly the memories that have been.
Happy Holi!
