Get up at 7 am sharp. Assess the arsenal that I had blackmailed dad into buying for me. Look at the Silver, the gold and the tiny balls of so called "pukka" rung to judge its potency, wish there was more to go around and head to the bathroom.
2 bags of ballons, a mad rush to find a tap that fit the balloons mouth, 1 roll of thread to ensure that each water filled bomb was secure. Watch with pride as the bucket filled up with red, orange, white and yellow shapes. admire the ones that grew to look like brinjals, some like bananas and laugh outrageously at the leaky ones with a tiny jet stream of water oozing out. Too funny they were, reminded me of men peeing on the roads.
all this done, while anxiously looking at the time. Hoping against hope that the colony hooligans did not arrive at your doorstep before you were ready to attack them back. Race against time, to get the dirtiest clothes out of the cupboard, smuggle in a few gunjias and vala it was time to play some serious kick ass holi.
Step 1- Get the bucket, the pichkari and the colours to the door
Step 2- Laboriously get the above, down three floors.
Step 3- Scream in horror, as the assholic friends jump you from below the staircase
Step 4- Yell in agony, as you watch every single one of the water balloons disappear in nano seconds, most hitting the road,the pavement, the floor anything but the target. So much for 3 hours spent at the tap
Step 5- Swear revenge shall be yours. Tear open the evilest packet of colour- black/silver, mix it with the 2 most evil colour, dunk had on pavement goo, smear colour laced palms to make a gooey disgusting mix and run yelling towards the targets. Go for the neck, the ears, the teeth and the nostrils. Watch the end result with a thrill of victory
Step 6- Sigh of dismay as u are dunked with purple water, that is chilled and your victim gets the upper hand
Yup! I love holi. It is singularly the most fun, bizzare, rationale-less, nonsensical festival that there ever was. The dhols of farmehouse parties, dunking people in pools of coloured water, the still pleasant sun., the hunger., the horrible bath that never seems to end and the layers of colour that stream off you.
The sleep that occurs for hours and the drowsy sensation in the evening, when battle scars are compared of whose neck is a deeper red, and laughing at the pink nailed boys in school the next day. Destroying school uniforms and watching in mock horror the gundas of the road who toss eggs at passing cars.
This heady combination of laughter, aggression, gentle colour tikas, the running and the playing, the eating and sleeping, the festive spirit, the only festival where u can do all that you want, where strangers can greet you, and passers by feel free to stop by and just meet you.
the one day, where you dont need permission to be simply mad. Boundary less maddness.
I miss you Delhi ;-( to playing a mad mad holi next year