bhaanged!

Saturday was Holi. Another year. But a new house. Same colours. And as luck would have it, a similar crowd going wild, to look down on, from the balcony. And watched I did, like every year. This time from my 8th floor balcony.

The building provided the colours, which you could smear liberally on your sizzling neighbour and whoever you fancy. The building also got a DJ to churn out the lastest chartbusters while you wildly shook every managable part of your body. The building then put sprinklers all around the "dance floor", to drench every Eve and Adam. And true colours were revealed.

The shy wife, who hardly talks, was gyrating sensuously. The mother-in-law tied her dupatta around her waist and did a powerful garba-like tandav. The pot bellied men tried shaking themselves in the name of dance. Several groups of guys and girls, dancing fast and close with their now-wet-and-see-through attires. It was difficult to make out such a motley crowd, painted beyond recognition, from such a height.

Now the best part was, the kind building put up a buffet too, where dosawalas furiously flattened dosas, bhajias were fried in a massive kadai, pani punis were dished out... and god knows what. What the building did not provide was alcohol and forbade anyone to even drink it there. The hubby was dying to go grab a bite but even for him the price was too high to pay. Colour on your face, hair, ears, nose, eyes and then wet to the skin. Not worth it.

So we readied to leave for the friend's party. Hubby neatly wore his festive best and warned me against wearing anything nice lest someone hurls colour on me and I would be finding another excuse to buy new clothes, so he said!

From the moment I entered I pitched myself next to the food and kept eating and drinking. A few people were talking and laughing too much and I saw a few dead asleep in the bedrooms. Effects of bhaang, hmm... I settled for vodka. Safer. Amidst hot malpuas and cheer, I didn't realised when I was pressed with a glass of thandai, with bhaang of course. Another glass. And soon I was in seventh heaven. But I didn't sleep. The others did.

The hosts' kid, a little monster, innocently asked, "why do people come and sleep on Holi?"

This is the kind of Holi I like. Fun, food and friends. And I would definitely like to forget the time I was dunked in a little pool. It frightened the hell out of me. I hated it when my parents' friends came over on Holi and attacked them with dreadful colours. It troubled me no end. The helplessness of my mother as she ran, covering her face. Maybe I suffer an aversion towards Holi since then.

But Holi being a holi-day, I have always welcomed it with open arms. And bhaang made it so much better this time. I am already looking forward to next year!