Festival https://www.satpar.in A New Outlook Towards Life... Fri, 18 Mar 2022 18:38:12 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.1.10 https://i1.wp.com/www.satpar.in/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/cropped-Satpar-icon-03-1.png?fit=32%2C32&ssl=1 Festival https://www.satpar.in 32 32 179916512 Reminiscing the Holi of Yesteryears https://www.satpar.in/reminiscing-the-holi-of-yesteryears/ https://www.satpar.in/reminiscing-the-holi-of-yesteryears/#respond Fri, 18 Mar 2022 18:31:39 +0000 https://www.satpar.in/?p=583 A summary of some beautiful Holi memories.

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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.

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The Unfinished Year… https://www.satpar.in/the-unfinished-year/ https://www.satpar.in/the-unfinished-year/#comments Wed, 31 Dec 2014 18:22:33 +0000 https://www.satpar.in/?p=113 Hey Friends, Its that time of the year again.. The time to say goodbye to this year and welcome wholeheartedly the next 365 days to come.. The same traditions of New year’s eve prayers, parties and celebrations are followed all around. Though until a few weeks ago there were heavy protests against going the western...

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Hey Friends,

Its that time of the year again.. The time to say goodbye to this year and welcome wholeheartedly the next 365 days to come.. The same traditions of New year’s eve prayers, parties and celebrations are followed all around. Though until a few weeks ago there were heavy protests against going the western way and celebrating new year on 1st of January, I see the streets filled with people, pubs and discotheques filled to the brim. Guess no kind of ban or threat can take us away from the New year celebrations.

The night’s still young, and almost an hour to go for the calendar to be turned to 2015, and in my mind is the question…Has the year 2014 come to an end? Am I prepared for a new year? Have all my plans for the year 2014 been accomplished? Have I finished what I started? Phew! lots of questions I must say.

Well the answer however is simple, Resolutions!!! Don’t we diligently jot down points after points in our to do list for the year. As years passed the list grew shorter, and now it would be better to rather write the unfinished resolutions than writing new ones.. This takes me to my thought, is the year finished or is the new year just a continuation of the old one… In the true sense the only place where the year does really change are on the calendars, and any other place that requires writing the date.

2014 was a monumental year, lots of major changes, huge twists and turns of destiny, new people , new places, and what not. 2015 is just an extension of all that.. So this year round no new resolutions, I will just continue to do the things I did in 2014..With that thought in my mind I wait, with the whole world..To welcome the New Year..

So here’s me on my Satrangee Parachute wishing all of you a very Happy & Prosperous New Year.

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Retracing the steps of an old Garba… https://www.satpar.in/retracing-the-steps-of-an-old-garba/ https://www.satpar.in/retracing-the-steps-of-an-old-garba/#respond Tue, 30 Sep 2014 21:39:00 +0000 https://www.satpar.in/?p=7 ‘Navratri’, the word itself stands for nine nights; nine nights and ten days of worshipping the nine forms of Devi (female aspect of divine). Staying in Gujarat the most important aspect of these nine days has always been, nine nights of dancing to the tunes of various songs varying from the traditional garba songs to...

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‘Navratri’, the word itself stands for nine nights; nine nights and ten days of worshipping the nine forms of Devi (female aspect of divine). Staying in Gujarat the most important aspect of these nine days has always been, nine nights of dancing to the tunes of various songs varying from the traditional garba songs to the latest Bollywood number. The garba grounds where hundreds gathered and swayed effortlessly to the tunes being hummed. In midst of all the music caste and creed was forgotten, enmity and anonymity hardly mattered…. The crowd mantra tended to be dance all night…
This year the winds carry the songs like “odhni odhu” and many more to my new abode…and with the music a huge wave of nostalgia rushes in… I remember my first teen tali on the DN grounds, the nervous journey of a novice and the transformation into a garba enthusiast.. The group consisting of my special ladies practicing the steps beforehand, hours of getting ready, decking up in the traditional attire, the last moment rush for pieces of jewellery and matching dupatta….
I remember the first garba steps of a dear friend. The unending hours spent with an extraordinary friend talking about each and every thought that came into mind. The shy smiles, the secret promises, the anger, the small fights and reconciliations. Walking through the dark roads unarmed in the early hours of the day…Sleepwalking through lectures, and sleeping a whole day after the last day of navratri….
When I look at it like this, I guess I did enjoy a lot. The at most freedom and maximum amount of fun. Talking to my friends made me realise that each one of us missed the joy of the yearly reunion that this festival used to provide. The chance to meet at least once a year, laugh, dance and enjoy.. that is what has been lost now…Life has made us older, wiser to an extent, but yet this heart craves fervently for the chance to go back, just for a day to those fun filled past…
This is Satrangee parachute missing my dear friends this navratri and always…..

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