Ah! Holi. As we grew up the real fun of Holi faded. It must be a dream sequence when we roamed around bathed in nothing but Kichad, mud.
It usually started with a Teeka on forehead and ended up with a statue of mud. Imagine, how funny would that situation be when you would see yourself in the mirror and would say, “yuck, who’s this?”
Those were the days when you didn’t try to gather happiness but it just followed and Holi, the festival of colours (of course of mud in our case), used to bring it in tons.
Our Holi worked like a chain reaction (it’s not just about atom bomb). Two guys, obviously the most notorious ones in the school (mine is a case of hostel) started the reaction by soaking themselves or each other (it could never be revealed as in my seven years of hostel life, I always saw them mud painted) in the mud. And then began the sequence of Catch, Clay and Company.
With their might, they kidnapped one guy (they usually started with easy preys), throw him in a pool of clay (there were plenty to find or easy to create in hills and then they were company. And within an hour there was a Gang of half-naked, mud-smudged guys who soon became a terror for Holi fearers. But, there were some adventurers too, who preferred to dive in rather than being thrown away.
Oh, I narrated you the movie but forgot the trailer. You can also call it the ‘Curtain Raiser of Holi’. At around midnight or later when almost all creatures were fast asleep, some wicked painters woke up with their pack of colours, black polish, and made moustaches on the faces of all sleeping beauties. Those who woke up during the operation were tricked to join in. But unfortunately, it wasn’t as much fun as it sound. A complaint and we would have red, swollen asses for days. And that’s again a Good Omen. After all Holi is a festival of colours so we didn’t mind some permanent colours.
That was the beauty of childhood when as I said we don’t look for moments of happiness but we are just happy, without realizing that we are happy. It just happens as it used to happen on Holi, year-after-year until we were children, carefree, ignorant, without any baggage. On every Holi, I try to play Holi Khul ke as we used to do when we’d not grown but ‘try’, the deliberation, is the root cause of all blues.
This year I won’t try. This year will be a year to #KhulKeKheloHoli and I wish it would come true to me and for all those loved Holi.
Now I am leaving you with this beautiful video that celebrates the true colours, love and affection, of Holi.