India

March 1

I am very good at being lazy, but even this was a little much. Since Friday I had barely been out of my apartment due to Holi. The Indian population had forced me to stay indoors till Tuesday, threatening me with a storm of color filled water balloon as soon as I entered the street. I wouldn’t mind the color except two things; 1. Being white makes you a target and 2. The color stains your clothes- clothes that I have very little of.

The attack started a week ago with water balloons from rooftops, which I could deal with. But as the days rolled in the fire increased- more water balloons, more color, more damage. Yesterday I couldn’t avoid the attack, because yesterday was the actual holiday. So after I put on my paint clothes and took a last look at my white face I headed out.

The door was opened and all was fine. I walked into the street and all was fine. I took a few steps and it was then I noticed the bath of color resting below my feet with the remnants of water balloons scattered about. It was then that I was under fire. Purple paint exploded around my feet spraying on my legs as I power walked to my destination. I looked back to see where the fire was hailing from, but I saw not a soul and heard not a giggle, typical.

When I got to the street I was ushered into a taxi and hauled to my location, about 20 minutes away. I looked around as I rode along the empty roads. Never Had I seen such empty roads. I saw people covered in paint laughing and people sprayed with colors on their motorcycles driving to their next Holi party.

I got to the house of my directors daughter and was welcomes upstairs. As I walked through the halls I noticed the grounds covered to protect them from stains. I would worry about staining my skin, but luckily I too was covered. Not with plastic or cardboard like the furniture and floor, but with oils, from head to toe.

The view from this roof was amazing and I was soaking it all in- the view, the heights, the sun. The sun was out and hot. Holi marks the end of winter and it just so happened that this was the first summer like day India has had since I got here. My observation was quickly disrupted as I felt the powdered hands of people press against my face. Within seconds I was covered in blues, pinks, purples, and bright oranges. As if the colored powder wasn’t enough, then the water came out. Cold, dyed water, dumped on people by the bucket full, instantly staining their white shirts. We laughed and shrieked as each of us got our turn, until everyone was unrecognizable. Then we took a break, had a toast, and went on to applying a fresh coat of color. We did this until finally all the color was gone and the porch was the bottom of a pool of purple water and swimming powder. I looked around and couldn’t help comparing my two Holi experiences- One with a great view, unlimited paint and water, snacks, drinks, music, and no responsibilities; Another with limited time and supplies, but with kids who were surprised to see that they’d be celebrating. Back at PappanKalan the children made the day, not the supplies.

It really shows the its not what you do, but who your with. I enjoyed spending time in this nice house with my Indian friends, but the streets of PappanKalan are what I truly love. As I got covered with the bright green paint I thought about those kids and I hoped they got to live free for today. I wished they truly got to experience the colors and love of this Holi. Their fathers probably drank too much and the kids might have had to work, but just to feel the movement of this day would be enough. I know they would appreciate that. These children were my Indian family, the ones I should have spent the holiday with.

When my taxi came I headed towards the door while saying my goodbyes. I was just about to exit when I was stop by the host. She begged me to stay and I had to fight with her just to let me go take a nap. It was very nice and I appreciated her generosity and want for me to join them, but I was dead. I was dropped off and started the walk home being pelted with balloons filled with purple. When I finally got to my apartment I took two showers in an effort to get the color out and took a nap knowing I wouldn’t be leaving till the parties were over.

By seven everything had pretty much died out and I knew I could safely walk the streets. Well, there still were the stray dogs I had to worry about; some eve had color on them.

Me, Vicky, and Lalit after the attack

The whole gang!