Holi, the Festival of Colours
Holi comes like a burst of multi-hued colours in Spring, spreading the message of unity in diversity, warmth, fraternity, and camaraderie. It is a day that the country seems to forget the divisions, distinctions, and territorial boundaries. No matter who you are and what you are, people of all creed, caste, and class celebrate it with fun and laughter, sprinkling and splashing colours like crimson, saffron, emerald, and violet which fall like showers on their faces, heads, drenching their bodies and clothing, until everyone resembles a walking colourful doll on the white canvas, sending a strong message that at the deepest level all beings share the same essence.
Streets that until then maintained boundaries will flow like streams, breaking them, filled with colours, drum beatings, and songs. Men, women, and children, forgetting their gender disparities, join together like a confluence of rivers, dancing much to their delight expressing equality with their individualities dissolving into unity. It is a symbolic way of conveying the idea that life is fleeting and nothing is permanent, rekindling friendship and fraternity, shedding laziness, and awakening into brightness. When one smears colours on the face and head, it gives a clarion call to let go of the differences and come together to start a life afresh, filled with vigour and joy.
At dusk, when the darkness descends, bonfires are lit where people assemble to warm up their bodies, sing, and dance, clapping while using household items as instruments, leaving their disputes behind to celebrate their togetherness. The fun goes on late into the night until the rooster crows, when people, exhausted, disperse to their respective homes with contentment and happiness, only to resume their daily tasks with vigour. The burning itself symbolises the burning of self and the past.
The festival itself serves as a metaphor for spiritual awakening, change, and life renewal. The variety of colours depicts the life of colours defying all logic, rather than in a uniform, singular shade. The festival occurs in the Spring, which symbolizes the rebirth of life and the flourishing of the human spirit following times of adversity. Of all the seasons, I love Spring the most as I consider no better time to live with colours for ever. The explosion of nature in every hue brings me closer to it than ever. Can there be a better season than this, where the spirit soars to a great height and touches the sky, which is not a limit for joy? The calls of the birds are renewed and cause the flowers and branches to bend in rejoice. I have always felt uplifted in my mind and body, and I am fortunate to have been born in March (Spring). Pretty enough, my friends called me a spring bird as I am fleecy and slippery.
The trees rain flowers like in the movies. The earth feels shifting its weight, and before long, the gentle breeze sweeps them, and the fallen flowers gain their wings to fly away. Day one, day two until the season lasts, fields awaken, bright, wide, and expressive, wearing new green clothes as their pride and joy. The colours chase the winter away, dancing in harmony. The earth herself begins to sing, clad in tender colours, swallow every colour of every flower, becoming once more like a blooming child, and there are no gaps in my understanding of their swift beauty and mystery. We always search for the presence in the absence. There is nothing like absence in nature. Our perceptions make the difference as we are steeped in our pursuits. Everything is present, vibrant, and lovely.
