Holi is’nt an oblivious term to anyone residing in India. But yeah .. the mode of welcoming it , is amazingly different . So now when I am in Bangalore – the so called ‘silicon valley` of India , the onset of holi was just like any other weekend. Whereas backhome there was an exciting atmosphere for everyone, here it was a cold rather an ignorant response. But it is justified , even pongal and onam has the same mental impression for us – the south Indian men,bare chested,dressed in the typical dhoti, raising coconut blade in one hand and their ladies with silk sarees and those honeycomb like gajras , the music of
shehnai playing in the background…O !! OH!! O!! sorry am deviating and being pukish now ;) , but still I don’t know what onam and pongal means … so I mean the cold response was well anticipated. So is the culture so is the place ( a beautiful one indeed ) .
Even though there was an option to sleep out the holi day , there were some mischievious plans already in store for the festival. So as soon as I woke up there was no escape from my roomie who went outside just a few moments back , for buying the so called disprin , and returned with what made my face look like a pink monkey. Just in a few moments ,the entire floor was sprinkled with colors, and our faces were painted beyond recognition. Now that was a pleasant onset . There was no looking back and all of us headed outside as a bunch of troopers , face painted blue black and all sorts ….
The whole street was normal , with everyone on their routine work . The same departmental store , the fish shop , the medical shop , even the wine shop . Everyone on the street was normal . And with our painted faces and dirty hands, we were the cynosure , as if a circus troop is out in the open. A lady was standing with her back to us, probably waiting for someone, and just for a moment as she turned ,she glared us and started running as if for her life… that was amusing …Even the stray dogs were barking and following the most alien thing they could have ever seen. Young girls started to gape out of balconies , the little kids took us as clowns,performing a promotional show, while the elderly ones thought nothing more than they usually think – a group of hooligans. But who cares…the vibrant child within was alive now…
Well there were some of our friends staying nearby and we decided to gift them this day with some real long lasting memories…;-) So as per the mischevious instincts, we bought this “pakka rang” or permanent color – the same used for dying purposes . We brushed it on our hands and wetted them with the only – NATURAL WATER …???????? No!!!! no!!!! no!!! .. I just mean the rain water stagnant on the roads…They were attacked ruthlessly by this permanent weapon.The whole atmosphere was eclectic and live with the childhood sting.
Whist moving around the city on this colorful festival , there were only a few groups with whom the tradition was graciously exchanged. But man without breakfast and any food such an ordeal was really a tiring one. Moreso it was hard to stand before my own image in the mirror. So the task at hand on returning home was scary, and cleansing out the face,before doing anything became more of an obligation.
But by this time the permanent color had done its trick. It took me half an hour of scrubbing session just to remove the color from my face --one of the most cherished possession.
But the color which was on my hands is’nt even fading . I look like a mine worker when I eat . And don’t know how I’ll hide these hands on the next working day.But whatever , it might take a week at the minimum to fade out the color but I am sure the color which this celebration has added to my bachelorhood , independence and youth is’nt going to fade soon……………………………………..!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
