Hello to all my dear friends,
“And the memories bring back, memories bring back you,” Du du du dududooo….. Yes, read this while listening to Maroon 5. Gives you that walk down the memory lane feel. I just felt like writing today and even before I knew it, I had penned down this post. So, without further ado, here are the top Holi experiences that ran through my mind today.
Let’s Start from the Beginning…..
My earliest memory of Holi is of me hiding under the windowsill waiting calmly for the unexpecting passerby, jumping up and surprising them with a shower of blue-coloured water. Hopefully washable colour or maybe ultra diluted Ujala can’t be sure. But I remember myself smiling, laughing and giggling each time I would successfully surprise anyone. I remember running around the quarters, armed with a Pichkari, yelling ‘Holi hai’, at the top of my voice.
Cut to the next year, I remember my sister crying for hours after Papa came home nearly blackened after being rolled around in charcoal can, apparently. Of all the things weird, I still remember Papa trying to calm my petrified sister by saying, “it’s your papa beta”. I don’t think my sister even heard it, because all she could do was cry while clinging on to our mom, and sneaking peeks from time to time. She kept crying until papa emerged out of the bath in a relatively recognisable state.
The memories from early childhood end there.
I remember the next Holi from when we shifted to a new town. It took me time to realise that not only was the language different, so was the culture and the celebrations. Imagine my surprise when I encountered an angry neighbour when I surprised him with the usual ‘Holi hai’ and a splash of green, the only colour I could find amongst the treasures I had sneaked in while packing.
Holi ceased to exist for the next few years as the colours of Onam and Vishu came to be a part of my ever-expanding life.
Teenage Years
Move to the last year at school, again in a new city amongst new friends and again a Holi celebration almost in the middle of final exams. The memory of my then friend (& now husband) shyly asking for permission before applying the tiniest dab of colour on my face seems so distant yet clear. The innocence and the respect we had for each other remains fresh in my memory. Not that it has gone, but with times things change, don’t they?
First-year of college was a nightmare and the Holi that year is one that still haunts me. One day before Good Friday, I rebelled against the warden for not letting me go to church. The rebellion saved me from getting drowned in a pit of mud, but got me reprimanded for the rest of the year. The mud pit filled with water and the girls being dragged into it is a sight hard to forget.
The most memorable Holi of all was during my second/third year of college. We were sort of living on our own, eating out of the tiffin delivered by the Dabbawallas in town. It was our year of independence, and we girls had a lot of fun together. It was a Holi that we got to spend with each other and naturally we were excited. We had a plan, a good one (at least in our heads). We worked the whole night creating a bobby trap. We balanced a jarful of coloured water on top of the main door so that we could surprise our house owner. The work was so tricky that we tired ourselves and woke up late, only to find that someone had actually pulled it down. Whether the trap worked is still a mystery. We had a good laugh at our own foolishness and wasted enthusiasm, and went out to play Holi with our PG mates. The fun part was us applying so much oil on ourselves to get the colour out easily, which, as it turns out was so greasy that removing the oil ended up as a challenge instead. And yes, the French braids! All of us sitting and braiding each other’s hair was something that should have been captured on camera. The time we spent together is what I cherish the most, and so is our beautiful friendship. My girls will know who I am talking about 😊.
Fast forward to Present
Over the next few years, my body started being allergic to the smallest of things and as it would be Holi colours ended up on the list too. Hence, end of the playing with colours and the playing with spices instead. Holi now is fully organic (Turmeric, Beetroot, and Spinach) or restricted to the Tika/tilak (application only on the forehead), or the water jet (on the rarest occasions). It is also the time for experimenting with my cooking skills and making more sweets and snacks than we can eat.
Life changes, but the past remains. As each holi passes by, I create a new memory. One that I can either hold on to as a lifelong treasure or as one that will be forgotten as time passes.
This Holi was one where my heart felt conflicted. The constant sight of a war, the distraught faces and despair. The helplessness that one feels at the sight of such things often leaves me with the question, why? Global issues, politics and rivalries aside, what is this really for? We have had enough wars and destructions already. To destroy is easy. The nations in war will need years to rehabilitate, restructure and the ones who are suffering will forever live in fear. Human lives are being lost, infrastructure that took years to build is being torn down into pieces. Shattered families, people with no place to call their home, trees, plants, birds and animals all lost. Peace is what I pray for as the day ends. The world weeps, and we try to remain sane. Memories can help. So, once in a while, dig into that beautiful treasure trove and find happiness even when things don’t go as we plan.
Happy Holi.
This is Satrangee Parachute, setting off to create beautiful memories.