My childhood holi

I took birth in Uttar Pradesh. Holi runs in its blood. We had to take precautions from a fortnight ago. Always keeping an eye for a balloon landing right upon us, colouring us up or a shower of colour from rooftop, or sprinkling from a passerby. The day of Holi meant absolute insanity.

We were allowed to use colours on only the day of Holi. There were two colours permitted for us to use gulal (a dry powdered colour) and wet colours, which were mixed in water and then filled up in pichkaris (special sprayers).

When holi came in UP winter still lingered there. Not completely gone. So we used to start with gulal and then pick up the wet colours after ten in the morning.

Every home used to throw its door open, there were two things waiting for visitors- all types of colours and sweets.

There were homes where buckets of colours were poured on the visitors and there were homes where only a hug and a little gulal was rubbed on forehead or cheeks.

I loved the gujhias most. It’s a special sweet of UP. Dry, sweet Kheer (milk and sugar boiled together till they become like dough) stuffed in a samosa type structure. It still lingers in my tongue. But they tasted a little bitter on holi day because our mouths were filled with colours. We relished them later, on the coming days after our teeth have retained their normal colour and our tongue has become pink again. On holi it was usually either purple or green. Those two colours were the most obstinate ones.

After having the full fledged fun with neighbours we used to stand by the roadside with leftover colours and sprinkle them on the passerby’s. No, no one gets angry by that on Holi day, even if he is not a Hindu. People bear it with good spirit usually.

For next one week or so, our ears and fingers were multicoloured. That was quite a sight to behold.