Monday, March 17, 2014

The different colours of Holi.

I'm at a place where Holi is never played and perhaps, unheard of or is considered by many as a quaint festival that's followed in the north! For me, it was business as usual to wish my close friends a happy celebration with colours and replying to the numerous calls and messages that kept pouring in. And as I went about it, I couldn't help but remember some unforgettable moments of Holi in my life. So let me share those times with you:-

 (a) Holi at the NDA.

 I was a first termer when I was exposed to this festival for the first time. While I'd watched the
 tomfoolery from a distance initially, I was sucked into it by my exuberant course mates. The Kapoors
 (Mr Kapoor ran the cafe which was a haven for the cadets) were the initial guests who're wished Holi
 in the inimitable way of the cadets, after which we're all by ourselves.

 The lasting impression of that first Holi of mine was that the colours smeared on my body took days
 to go off!

 (b) At the Elementary Flying School.

 It was another frenzied but balanced play with colours. I remember my course mates Salaria and
 Soman who're at the forefront to get me wet under the fire main. I guess I'd never got drenched ever
 again, to that extent ever, after the episode.

 Sadly, I lost both of them soon after - the former in a silly road accident at Bombay and the latter in
 a tragic flying accident. But their spirit live on every Holi, deep within me.

 (c) At Hamla, while doing my long course.

 It was here that I'd the privilege of playing Holi at the beach and I was also initiated into having
 lots of 'bhang(crushed poppy, if I ain't mistaken) laced milk'. The upshot was that I remember
 having laughed my gut out especially, when I saw the 'ole man' returning from the rest room with
 his fly open! And I remember having laughed my way to tell him about his faux pas and his reaction
 was almost instantaneous - laughingly zipped his fly shut and called for a refill for the both of

 And mind you, one never corrects one's seniors ever and I'd gone ahead and done just that!

 (d) At Coimbatore.

 It was here that I'd lost Sampath Kumar, a course mate, again in a tragic road accident soon after
 the revelry of the Holi celebrations while he was returning home. He was in coma for almost a week
 before he breathed his last and the saddest part was that he'd left behind his young wife and an
 infant child.

 (e) At Haldia.

 I was with my friends, the Banerjees and it was here that I learnt the art of playing Holi especially,
 with one's elders. The large and boisterous crowd was spread over with respect to age but I must
 confess that it has been one of the best experiences ever.

I think I can go on and on forever but must desist lest that I might bore you.


The festival of colours is indeed unique and is an indicator of the purity and fun loving nature of every Indian!    


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