Monday, March 1st was the Indian holiday Holi (prounced "Holy"), the festival of color. Though no one I talked to (foreign or Indian) could pinpoint the specific meaning of the holiday, everyone agreed on how it was celebrated: bonfires on the eve, and on the day of, carrying around brightly colored powder and either throwing it at, or rubbing it on, whoever crossed your path. Sounds like fun, no?
In the days preceding Holi I noticed shops everywhere selling colored powder in bulk and bags. The tendency of shopkeepers to arrange a variety of [water] balloons and squirt guns in close proximity to the colored powder filled me with trepidation, but also EXCITEMENT. Carebear and I selected some clothing items we'd been meaning to get rid of and were ready to go.
Not knowing where the celebrations in Delhi would take place Carrie asked a friend of hers who was a native of the city for advice. He said the action would be most happening on the huge campus of Jawaharlal Nehru University, and that we should go in the morning. Accordingly, we took an auto-rickshaw to the main gate around 10am and started prowling. The first victim I saw was this confused looking dog who looked like he had just been blessed at the temple:
I felt less pity when I realized the fool had decided to nap directly in front of a stand selling color. Here, Carebear looks on with disdain at the procrastinating buyers...
(Disdain is easy when you are already carrying organic Holi color powder made by disabled children using flower petals. I'm not kidding; the middle-class guilt market is HUGE in India).
Later, Carrie hit a few innocent dogs with her non-toxic eco-friendly ethically-produced flower powder. They clearly wanted more.
Further on we encountered a group of children.
People usually travel in packs on Holi and as we had been warned that it was often used by men as an excuse to grope women and were, as usual, totally overwhelmed by the gorgeousness of Indian women, we were happy to cross the street and "play Holi" with the kids.
It felt both strange and sweet to lean over and allow them to caress our faces with a handful of colored powder and to do the same.
We mostly managed to avoid packs of men and the occasional water gun sniper on the balcony of a dorm. Looking for tea at a chaiwallah stand we had seen the night before we found it closed, though all around it students were milling about with bright pink or green faces, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
I snapped this photo because I was so impressed with these guys' t-shirts: green shirt reads "Peace is Tougk", grey shirt reads: "I'M LOST please take me home with you"
Carebear and I were feeling pretty proud of ourselves. We had experienced Holi without the unpleasantness of having toxic color thrown or squirted in our faces. Feeling sufficiently ridiculous, we headed back to the guesthouse to clean up.
We really thought we were done for the day.
But then we heard from the guy at reception that they were going to have a Holi celebration shortly and that they very much hoped we would join them. I showered anyway, thinking I could just hang back and watch. No such luck. Arriving on the lawn we gathered around two bowls heaping full of powder and then, suddenly, it began. I've done some strange things before but I have to say this experience ranks quite high among them. Scooping up handfuls of color and either sprinkling them on the head or applying them to the face of a stranger, as well as receiving the same treatment, is seriously bizarre (and absolutely FUN).
As the only foreign guests, Carebear and I got some of the worst of it. As is the case with being banqueted in China (where EVERYONE wants to drink with and toast you individually), no one wanted to be left out. Carrie was bold with her color (somehow it seemed that the more of a mess you made of a person the more you were honoring them) but I was a little shy. I was relieved when, the color-play portion of the event over, we moved on to enjoying tea and snacks on the lawn.
Because who doesn't want to enjoy pakoras and hot beverages sprinkled with toxic color powder?
Even the Ganesh statue (in my favorite "sexy sexy elephant god" pose) got some powder and a snack. Oh India!
After another round of showers Carrie and I left to run some errands and deliver her to the bus station for her trip back to Jaipur. Once again, we thought we were done with Holi. But it turns out that isn't a decision one can make (it is for this reason exactly that many older people simply stay home on the holiday). Heading out to look for lunch later that afternoon, Carrie and I got egged by a passing car. Eggs, as far as I know, are not Holi-sanctioned, but apparently things get a little crazy when gangs of young hooligans are emboldened to attack random strangers. This became even more clear on a street near the train station, where, after backing away and loudly stating "No!" to an approaching young man with paint in his hand who was almost entirely eggplant-colored, I was chased and sprayed in the face with an aerosol can of blue color by a young boy. To their credit, several strangers approached immediately to help me clean up and inquire after my well-being. Later, after seeing Carebear on to her bus home I got hit with a green powder bomb while trying to hail down an auto rickshaw. I ordered the rickshaw driver (who later requested a kiss as a tip) to take me back to my guesthouse where I locked myself in to take my third shower of the day and pack my stuff while music and singing drifted in from the Sikh temple next door.
India is a beautiful, enchanting, fascinating place but it can be incredibly exhausting as well. I admire Carebear for being able to deal with all the lecherous men, tempestuous weather, and the many folks with great big smiles (or frowns) who look for any opportunity to cheat you; but I don't think I would do well living there. Of course I can't wait to go back. It was so good to spend time with someone I could talk to or joke with about anything and to see beautiful places and buy pretty things. Of course I have all kinds of big, nerdy thoughts about traveling between the two biggest, fastest growing countries in the world but I'll spare you.
On Tuesday morning I hustled to the Delhi airport, where I saw a handful of foreigners at check-in who still had colored powder in their scalp. I'm pretty sure I did too.
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