It was the ‘Holi’ festival last week. I had a working day in Bangalore as usual but noticed a flurry of mails and text messages almost all through the day, wishing me on the festival.
The festive fervor was oozing out of those messages coming from the northern part of the country where this indeed was an important social festival – full of colours, joy and gaiety. As I was going through those messages, in between my meetings and conf-calls, a few impressions of this festival that I enjoyed all through my childhood and early adulthood crossed through my mind. I would have never imagined in those days that a day will come when I will be sitting and working seriously at my office desk, while my friends and family in another part of the country would be having a blast. Notwithstanding the fact that many of my friends settled abroad, have long forgotten these festivities.
In my early childhood, a night before the festival, we would fill water and colour in small balloons and store them in a bucket to be fully geared up for the morning blast. Appropriate clothing would be kept ready so we don’t lose any time on the morrow. My brother and I had separate packets of balloons and hence separate buckets to store the filled ones. I wouldn’t be surprised if my elder brother had not flicked some of mine into his bucket surreptitiously as his stock always lasted longer than mine – nevertheless, I would have enough for the day to enjoy. We used to throw those water balloons on the revelers and the passersby on the street from our terrace as we were not allowed to go down for the fear of getting mobbed amidst the frenzy.
A few years later, we had the freedom to go down to the streets albeit within the boundaries of our lane. A group of friends will move together (called ‘Toli’) while pulling off some pranks on one another. These pranks sometime got dirty – with some really naughty tricks using indelible inks, paints and other similar irritable synthetics on some pre-identified target groups or individuals. Such plans were put in place a few days or weeks in advance, with the highest precision and maturity of mock-runs that will put the current day program managers to shame.
As I grew into my teens, the fun was in moving to farther places in bicycles – to visit friends. As we covered one friend after the other, the size of the ‘Toli’ grew naturally. The celebration time extended from 4 hours to 6 hours. The best part of visiting friends was to have a sumptuous feast of Holi delicacies. The ‘Ghujia’ being a common denominator, there used to be other different goodies in each house. The plates full of such delicacies would be lined up on a table in the living rooms of most of the neighbourhood households and every time a passing ‘toli’ cleaned that up, the plates were topped up again.
As we joined college, the celebrations got more sophisticated. More than throwing colours, the pleasure was in obliging the kids of the locality to throw colour on you and have fun. The more sober hugs replaced the otherwise boisterous duels. Touching feet of the elders in the neighbourhood gave a sense of maturity. Special attention was paid to ensure this gesture was followed with and was noticed by the parents of same-age girls of the locality. So that your image stays intact.
The experience of Holi has changed for me over a period – at least in this part of the country where it is not a major local festival. I forget all the fun of my childhood when I instruct my kids to play Holi with temperance. To play Holi with some specific colours. To play Holi without wasting water. To play Holi within the apartment complex – and only in a specified corner of the campus. To show restraint while hogging on the goodies. Not only the parents, the civic authorities too telecast a host of do’s and don’ts that take away much fun out of the festivities – not belittling the need of the hour to educate people on such restraints.
This used to be an inclusive festival where anybody out on the road was a target and hence a part of the festival. In northern part of the country where I lived, no offices worked and no schools were open. There were no 7-day working Malls and the neighbourhood grocer was also a fellow reveler. Throwing colours on strangers was not an offence – it was a primitive version of the modern networking skills. This has become more exclusive now. The celebrations are restricted to a family, to a community to a small group.
With so many constraints put on the fun, I will not be surprised if we soon hear the statutory warning on electronic media before the festival – ‘Holi celebration is a subject matter of solicitation….’
Happy Holi !!!
