As a child, I did not enjoy Holi. I didn’t like the feeling of letting go. Not that I was so prim and proper. Just the messy outlook of the festival was unappealing. I enjoyed holi the first time, when I was in college. Hostel holi is one for the books. The mujras, the bhaang, the endless gup sessions. Mine was a girls hostel, but we didn’t need men to enjoy Holi. The hostel gates were locked with three big locks and chains, since it was common for boys to enter campus and make a scene. I wish the warden knew the scene inside the hostel. 😝
Today we played holi with my mayeka as I like to call them – jindals. It was a blast. I appreciate holi much more as an adult. That feeling of letting go. Giving in to the moment. Let the color soak me, let the water balloons make me the target. Let the pichkari drench me, and let my hair and face be unrecognizable.
Let me dissolve myself in the moment. Let me not resist. The more I do, the more I make myself the target. So just go with the flow… and give in.