Holi

The true meaning of all those sayings and adages about feeling bad on not getting what you want or failing, when you really want it and work hard for it, hits you smack in the middle of your face right after an exam. I haven't failed (not yet, at least) but the 1st paper wasn't a brilliant start to the last exams of the session. And to think it is the most important course in the area I am going to specialise in (though that decision could still change given my exemplary performance)! The only grace is that it's relative marking and, barring a few outliers, every other batchmate of mine has done as nicely as I have.

That was a rare crib about marks from me. Bookmark it.

Holi went by in a daze. Woke up too late after the late-night party to play. When I was living with my parents, I used to be one of those kids, and quite uncharacteristically for my general temperament, who would lead the gang of over-enthusiastic, drenched in color, well-stocked with the strongest colors possible, 'Holi-players' and raid every single house in the colony. We would climb over walls, jump in through windows (and even a ventilator once), to drag out people who weren't as excited with the prospect of getting all wet and dirty as we were. Then by noon, after a complete round of the colony and sampling mithaais at every stop on the way, all of us would assemble at the bungalow of the plant-head for hours of more fun in the swimming pool. It used to be crazy. And an eagerly-awaited annual event.

I lost interest after I left home. Holi in college was way too violent and my involvement, on the few occasions I did spend Holi at my hostel (I would normally go back home), was limited to the confines of the hostel (unlike most other people who preferred to visit the girls' hostel), where I would play for a short while with some of my friends, get my shirt torn and then have my bath before the water ran out. The ones I spent at home were even worse because of the awkward age-group that I was in. Too old to play with the kids, too young to go out with the elders. My role would be retricted in general to serving sweets (and dahi-vadas, which no one makes better than my mom) to the guests coming to our home and preventing my dogs from attacking all the scarily colored specimens walking in through the gate.

I am not sure if I'll ever get to relive the Holis of my childhood. There's something about the way a festival is spent in a small town or in a large-ish colony that cannot be matched in the impersonal environs of a city. All my friends from school working in cities fondly remember those occasions. Most of my friends who grew up in cities can not even understand why I miss those days the way I do.