Buraa Naa Maano, Holi Hain!

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Holi.... the Festival Of Colours. Probably the only festival where we specifically hunt for old clothes, bad enough to be discarded, to wear! And probably the one with the most fun and colour and life.

This was our first Holi after our marriage. We were in the US. Coming from a city like Nagpur, where Holi is infamously played in a not-so-decent manner, the complete lack of it suddenly made me realise how much I was missing ‘Mera Desh, Meri Mitti, Meri Hawaa’. It was a weekday, on top of that. So, hubby went to his office, as usual. I was literally devastated. To top it all, I had been getting Holi updates from family, back in India. It was making me feel worse.

He came home very late from work. The ‘Desi Girl’ in me was dying to play dirty. As soon as he kept his laptop bag away, (can’t mess with that, Holi or not), I put turmeric powder all over his head. It was not at all effective. I poured water on him. And then realised that we can’t mess the carpet. We are in the US, not our India!

We had to abandon that plan. But it was Holi. Another brilliant idea took over me. I rushed to check out my vanity case for ‘colours’. Let’s be honest here: Holi is Holi, but then Maybelline is Maybelline. I settled for the ‘sindoor’ stick, (the vermillion stick) which was bought locally in Nagpur. I convinced myself that this is so much more appropriate. I apply this everyday, even while I am wearing western clothes. May be, it is the Karmic payback time. 

Well, as it turned out, that unless the person is willingly allowing you to put colour on himself, the sindoor stick was not a very handy ‘device’, after all. My dear hubby, obviously, ‘willingly’, let me draw maroon lines all over his face. The best Holi, by far.

Well, as it happens abroad, the local temple does host the most colourful Holi over the weekend. So, we did end up indulging, after all.

‘Buraa nahi maana.... Holi toh Holi hoti hain!’


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