Monday, 21 March 2016

Holi re holi

“Holi re holi “ I remember this song sung by many our heroines of the seventies and eighties bathing in a  Splash  of colours and singing. Certainly the festival of colours is symbolic of the warmth and exuberance of the North Indians.  The North Indians Joie de vivre is amazing.  The festivals celebrated by them have a charm of their own right from Bhaiyya dooj to Karva Chauth.  Though the festival  is celebrated both  by the young and the old it is more a festival of the young  as we need abundant energy.  Other than the tomboyishness of the festival it is a festival that kindles the spirit of love and camaradarie. The festival is celebrated when the whiff of summer is in the air.
I remember  celebrating Holi both at Delhi and Calcutta. One particular incident still remains in my heart though the years have gone by.  On the particular Holi day in the seventies my brother and I started stocking ourselves with balloons and Pichkaris. We filled the balloons with coloured water and inflated as many as possible.  Our older friends were there to hep us with conseil. We jumped from terrace to terrace  and hit our friends in the neighboring streets with our balloons. What pleasure to thump our friends with balloons and see the balloon  explode. The Pichkaris were also fun.  Seeing a rainbow of colours  and drenching our friends was a great joy. That particular Holi the adventure spirit in us seemed more than ever.  Influenced by our peers we went to the next  neighbourhood and started playing Holi. It was a fun and frolic with mob fury  and a maze of colours.  Our clothes were drenched and our cheeks and body red with Gulal. The aunties  had also admonished us with plenty of sweets.  When  three hours  had lapsed  we returned back with the crowd. Our parents were waiting anxiously at the doorstep.  My father was fuming  red and angry. He was waiting to have lunch and had the plate in his hand.  He was so mad at us that he brandished us with the plate till our bottoms were sore.  My mother stood by helpless  watching my father vent out his anger.  Than we were asked to rush to the bathroom  and remove the grease in  our cheeks and peel out our wet clothes.  We followed instructions not wanting to face our fathers wrath.  I remember that particular Holi with amusement.    



I'm pledging to #KhulKeKheloHoli this year by sharing my Holi memories at BlogAdda in association with Parachute Advansed.

No comments:

Post a Comment