She lied down and hovered into the mystic land of memories. As the Vast Arry of colors played Holi in the sky, she marvelled the beauty of the northern hemisphere. For the first time in a decade she felt connected to herself. The pink, green ,red,and streaks of violet amalgamation in the sky matched the after Holi image of her Banaras. She realized the sky was playing tribute to her land . The sparks of electron and proton far away from the sun were creating the vivid illusion of colors flying in the air. The only difference was they could not color her body with their light. Yet they wore an uncanny resemblance with the colors , they dyed her soul with a happiness that had lost its touch from her life. The Game of colors over her head was like a show of fire works. Sometimes they brust into fits of color and sometimes like a rongoli arrange themselves into a pattern. So foreign yet in a sense so indigenous. His Words rang in her ear “wherever we may be , we would be connected. If by nothing else ,This sky will always be our roof”. She smiled. Her cheeks turned red. Somewhere far away the blue eyes of his saw the merry colors of yellow. Her fellow travelers saw the green of jealous seeing her. All the colors were there in her life ; perfectly arranged in a pattern to make the rainbow ashemed of its pride. But this wasn’t all. Her life didn’t have Her favorite black or his favourite white. Smiling she got transported to the Days she left behind.. To the days when she used to complain why aren’t they allowed to use black and white colors in Holi…. And finally to the days when she got her answers within the questions..
🎭 10 years ago🎭
With the Dhol beating the thunders and the ‘pichkaris’ challenging the rain ,Bhang and paan took charge of the new job offered to them i.e to paint the city in such a combination of colors that would put any modern art to shame. It was the day when people would get drunk by colors. Gulalls would intoxicate people only by spreading their color. Sweets , dance , music, and unlimited fun filled with crazyness was the essence of Holi. Holi wasn’t just a festival, for her it was an emotion . But unfortunately he was afraid of emotions. Theirs wasn’t a match made by cupid. They were arranged by the family, A couple made in heaven as they liked to say. It wasn’t her first Holi with him . By this time she had known how he dreaded being dyed with colors. He was the Ultimate perfectionist who could not tolerate a single dot of mismatch, n it was a matter of his white kurta getting dyed in Gulalls . She Laughed imagining the scowl on his face when she would apply him color. This was her last Holi in India. She would have to go to abroad for higher studies. She didn’t know when she would get enough holidays to come back to him. So, she was determined to color him with her love.
As a self established ritual, her Holi starts with him. So, After changing into white shalwar and suit She went to the Mandir. After doing Aarti she painted the feet of her elders. When she came to her room in search of him, he was no where to find. She smiled knowing he would be hiding behind the water tank on the roof top. So she started ascending the stairs. In a slow and calculated steps she covered the staircase without making any detectable sound. She went to the water tank and “boo” . But he wasn’t there. She got worried called his name. There was no response. She panicked for a moment. She hurridly stepped back as someone started calling her. When she was about to come out of the tank someone put a bucket of violet water on her. Shocked she started shouting. She wasn’t irritated by the sudden brust of colors. She was irritated coz it wasn’t him who had colored her first. She was dripping wet but she wasn’t the one to let it go. She threw the Vermillion in the direction of the attack. And ran down the stairs. She thought of going in search of him but someone dragged her out. Once she got engaged in the preparation she forgot herself. She danced into the beats of dhol. Danced with everyone and anyone who matched steps with her.But once in a while she felt restless. It seemed She couldn’t feel safe without him . Though there was color flying everywhere,she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy the festivities. By the passing of time she grew more and more restless.. Children were running here and there throwing water balloons at each other. People were changing their masks. They were throwing everyone into the mud . Some were drinking bhangs and ladies were busy in dancing. They were smiling and enjoying. That’s what she liked about Holi. Every one forget their worries and enjoy themselves to the fullest. Though colored with gulals they seemed to drop their maks. There was no awakardness , no boundaries , no restriction. Holi was the perfect illusion of life god created for human. Wild, untamed , crazy and full of life.But it seems what he thought of Holi was a bit of hallucination. She Couldn’t be carefree without being with him.He was the protective shield for her. He used to guard her so, she could play a safe holi. Without him the whole Festival seemed colorless to her.Within a few minutes someone would come to her and apply color on her. She would fake a smile and repeat the gesture. When needed she even faked a smile or two. She tried his number but it showed out of coverage area. She started sensing a nervous attack. It had been lunch hour. N there was no trace of him since the morning. She took a few sips of thandai and bhang to calm her nerves . Without thinking she stepped out of the gate. She went to The Ghat to their spot. Where they used to sit and plan about their future. Again there she found herself to be alone. There was no Sign of him. But his aura was there. She could sense it . She smiled . Relief flooded through her. As she took a few steps ahead She stumbled upon someone. The sudden reflex of punching him in the gut was somehow turned into the sudden desire of slapping him hard. Without thinking twice she slapped him across his cheek. He was there in all his 6 ft glory smiling and welcoming all her angry outbrusts. Finally when she came to her sense she angryly threw her arm up in the air and with a sound of frustration stumped her feet in the sands. All the while he remained there watching her Various displays of moods . For him She was a gulal, intoxicating and full of life.. N for her he was the Holi, full of colors,full of emotions her favorite and her identity. They were so in love with each other. She was incomplete without him. The sound of chaotic murmures intrupted her train of thoughts . She came to her senses. There he was, in all his 6ft glory but not standing, lying on the river bank. Then she looked around and found they weren’t alone. He was wet and someone had painted him red on the head …
*A few days later*
As someone threw a water balloon towards her ,She stared down at her saree. It was dripping wet but there has been no color on it. As she came out of her trance she took in her surroundings. She realized she was dreaming about a life she had left behind her. Now the widow home was her new residence and the white saree was her new identity. She smiled at the irony.She was wearing his favourite colour but he wasn’t there to appreciate. Her life had taken the shades of her favorite color but she could no longer approve. She realized Holi doesn’t include the two colors as they are the combination of all. Sometimes all these colors disappear from our life making it Blanche. And sometimes in a Newton’s disc they mix with each other to give white light. Sometimes all the gulals mix to create the darkest shade of black and as we go deeper into the fact they actually don’t reflect any light making it black. How much we may say we all have different shades , in the end our life gets summarised under either of these two. Black or white. Good or bad, Gay or sad. Her last Holi was the last of her interaction with the colors . The last memories of her land. As they Washed down the Vermillion from her head and the colors on her dress ran away along with the water, she wiped away all the colors from her life.
Back to 2017.
As the glorious display came to an end with the horizon bringing the new rays of hope along with the rising sun, her flash back came to an end. She sighed . After his departure she never had any courage to return to her city. Though she had knowingly avoided colors she couldn’t restrict her heart. Holi may mean many things to many people. But for her Holi still meant him. She was devoid of colors as she didn’t have any trace of him. She was denied of any attachment towards it as she could no longer associate herself with him, yet she couldn’t restrict her heart against him. For her Holi means only him .