Not the ideal most time to jot this down I feel but then
when has the youth been lawfully right??
Haha…n yet again I trail off in a total opposite direction,
snubbing the topic in hand :P
<Slap> <slap>…n I come back!!
Holi…well since it almost customary to write about the
festival at hand, I sit and think, struggling to churn out something about this
color bloom festival!!
Ya that also reminds me that it is holi here today and
unlike the previous years I am left all alone, friend bereft and thus, take up
this task of writing for my ‘new-found love’ ..Blogging!! :P
To start things, lemme give you some insights about holi
reminds me of and what I have been missing all this morning.
Back in Bokaro (oh! That is my hometown) holi was never like
it is today and without an exaggeration was my favorite festival with mum and
dad and tons of frnds to spice things up. I very well remember that the day
started pretty early for me and the fact that I actually saw the morning raga
in full bloom is something that is no less than an achievement for me, taking
into consideration the fact that I am the ideal most definition of a late
riser! :p (The other instances being my
exams when the unscrupulous thoughts of me failing kept me awake all nights. Well
this is alien territory and I would not get into details as of now.)
So, back on track, holi brought with itself not just happy
and gay faces, unrecognizable in most cases but also meant truckloads of
preparations and heated up, ass-slogging cooking!! Not that I myself did any of
it, the mere sight of aunties in my apartment (not even my mum :P ; she is again
the epitome of ultra-modern laziness) running about like little girls with ladles
full of Malpua batter, the sound of
mustard seeds crackling away happily later to be the soul of the yummmmyyyyy chola-bhatura and the endless rounds of
mixing and grinding for the all-time favorite Dahi Vada made me go sick in my stomach in apprehension…”dude…this
was meant to be fun right??” :\
Ok! I think I painted a really negative image of what
happens back in my place so as a measure to undo that lemme just talk about
what actually happens there instead of the sordid presumptions of my mind :P
The festival of colors has many different hues in different
parts of the country and like all other things in India, takes the local flavor
of the area to come up with an altogether different form of it. Back in Bokaro, we played a holi that was substantially
different from its siblings in Mathura or Shantiniketan, the biggest difference
being the very act of coloring!!
Call it eco-friendly or ardent followers of the theory of
sustainable and optimal use of resources we used every commodity that had a
color to impart, looked devilish (even putrid), felt slimy and smelt like
fermented stinking tofu!! :P
Having let out the vital stats, things that met these
standards were anything and everything ranging from mud to cow dung (oh! Holy cow),
to rotten rosogollas!! Call it
insanity, call it L.S (low standard), these actually substantiated as colors
for enthusiastic Holians :D
I remember being plunged into one of such puke-inspiring
broths and trust me the feeling is something that no words can describe :’(
Ok, enough of testimonials that assert the ‘dirtiest holi’ tag to my hometown; I would
now talk about the lighter parts of it.
11:00 A.M:- Breakfast done! Tummy says yummy and mummy say “Bujai
(well that’s my nickname), oil your hairs, get into the shabbiest looking, torn
into tethers clothes and be prepared for your game.” Now I always thought what
made my mum put gallons of oil (the tackiest thing even invented) on my tresses
and all exposed body parts?? :-\
Unfair as it may sound, when you are a child although your mind
works faster that it works in any other phase of your development, all your
questions and unsolved mysteries are shun by elders who just have 1 comment to
make “bête aap chote ho...Bado Ki baat
maanni chahiye” (oh! My child…it is not time yet for you to question…lay
your trust in us and do as directed) L
So, helpless like an apple snail, I stayed still while my
mum made her best effort to make look like one of the brothers from ED, EDD and EDDY :P and then throwed me
out of the house with a bag full of colors, my latest show-off – the weapon for
the day… my ‘pichkaari’. Another thing
that was constant in every house was a strict prohibition from entering the
premises with dirty feet and a treacherous kid loaded with color balloons, a
potential threat to all homes in the neighborhood :P
12:00:- Looking the ugliest I possibly could, equipped with
my tools, I set foot in enemy territory who for that matter was my next door
neighbor and who thankfully looked like my long lost sister with skimpy,
oil-clad hairs and flaunting the oldest piece of clothing in her wardrobe!!!
Now I think it would be a tough job for me recall every
detail of what followed, tougher because I would end up crying now… but the jest
of all activities was without an exception, a loooonnngggg shower with atleast
two soap bars eaten, hands on the verge of falling apart due to the rigorous
scrubbing and an overall tinge of green or red that made us look like maniacs
:P
It was always a lavish lunch that awaited us with the fruits
of the initial toil in the kitchen tasting sweet like never before. In the afternoon
nap that followed, I slept like Kumbhakran,
the mystical demon in the Hindu relic, Ramayana who slept unperturbed for six
months.
Later in the evening, things were at its glittery best with
new clothes and a dash of gulaal making you look like a pansy. Not to forget
the never ending rounds of dahi-vada and
ice creams that were plated in front of you in every single house you visited. Denial was never the choice and all those
doughy stuff made me full upto my glottis!
Be it the hateful procedure of oiling my hair (not anymore
since I now know the perils of chemicals to my hairs) or the time spent on the
roads looking like Marians or the long nap in the afternoon, holi is one
festival that remains very close to my heart.
Pheeeewwwww….so I finally accomplished writing atleast
something about holi. amidst the sound of children shouting “bura naa mano holi
hai”, I ponder upon a question that has been long unanswered… why is that we
are afraid of bombs and weapons when a seemingly harmless entity like TIME is
capable of completely changing (not always for the good) our existence?? How I wish
to be transported back in time to the place where holi was not just another
holiday….
Happy holi mates :)
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