The spring festival – Holi, the festival of colours – is here, heralding what is the Spring season. I am a bit sad, as spring means summer is here too. Winter was pleasant in Bombai with the cool air in the morning forming a misty envelope around the valley where I live. Today is a day of throwing colours on friends, family and acquaintances. Sometimes, it does get a little unruly, I know. The film people celebrate it in their own way – the Kapoors make a pool fill it with coloured water and dip whoever comes into it. So on.
I have never played Holi, but love to watch others play it. When I was in Chembur, my friends tried their best to haul me into playing it, but I resisted all the time, being too shy to let myself go. There’s a rambunctious lot of young people downstairs doused in coloured water, painted with thick oil colours, enjoying the festival. I like their carefree abandon. “Holi Ayee Re,” they shout and dance to the beat of Marathi songs. But are they being wise about it? Just asking. The colours mostly have toxic additives, the oil paint may damage their skin. The walls of a neighbour’s house look like a coloured canvas, painted with a brush dipped in multi-hued cans of paint.
Well, all these words, all these waffling, are just to wish you, my readers, “A Happy Holi.”