Bloglets: Holi ! Hues of Nostalgia, Romance and Survival

Holi for the uninitiated is the Indian ‘festival of colors' which signals the arrival of spring and also coincides with the Hindu new year. One cannot escape the vibrant cacophony of colors around Holi; so, I decided to add a bit of color to my blog in the spirit of holi! Well, technically I wanted to represent the multiple hues through various perspectives, but coloring my fonts seemed so much easier and fun!

Didn't I say, I was in mood for some fun, so I painted too :)

As for adding color through perspectives, I will give that a shot too and if you do not like it, I have a popular Hindi adage associated with this festival for you - ‘बु रा ना मानो होली है ’. This literally means, ‘do not get upset, it’s Holi’ but mostly implies ‘I will do whatever the f&*# I want, deal with it because it’s Holi ’.

It’s one of the festivals that make me very nostalgic about my hometown and childhood. To begin with, Holi legitimized everything that would have landed me in trouble any other day of the year. Whether it was running on streets with abandon, getting dirty, playing with anything that can be used as a proxy for color, using ammunition like water balloons and color slings, bickering over pichkaris (weapons of water based mass destruction), hiding in inaccessible places..you name it. On top of that, Holi in my hometown was anything but civil. Oil paint, mud, cow dung, garbage, ponds to dunk people; anything was fair game. Only if you have been party to that ‘anything goes’ kind of Holi, will you understand the kind of base and free spirit it reminds me of. I am sure the mention of some of these will lead to a few crinkled noses, but I’ll take my chances.

In absence of any images of Holi from back home; close second from web (Source: http://iarani.blogspot.com/) 

Apart from the interesting choice of ammo, the strategies and rigour that went into it, made it even more memorable. We would douse ourselves in oil so that the colors won’t stick. Some would paint their own faces so other’s don’t get the pleasure and some would hide behind shields (locked doors, old grandparents, babies) palpitating and dreading their capture if it came to that, and mostly it did. Most kids would wear something that had not been worn in last few years and would at least be a few sizes too small (Try arguing with a middle class Indian mother!) for obvious reasons. If you really played Holi, piece of your clothing inevitably went home in your friend’s pocket. Then came the part around taking off colors where everyone would share tips on how best to get rid of the color or peel your skin, whichever happened first.  

It was also probably the only time when looking like a boy (I didn't know I had rights !) worked to my advantage as I was not the first target of the boys’ gangs. Yes, there were all sorts of gangs who would take to streets and visit all the houses in the colony looking for their willing or unwilling targets. Gangs of young boys and girls who would start early and make initial rounds, followed by the male members and then the female members would join in after all the cooking was done.One of my favorite memories of Holi is of my dad carving out logos or funny quotes that he would stamp on people’s clothes and my mom humming while cooking delicacies in the kitchen.

'Lathmar' Holi in Barsana (Braj) ; source (wikipedia; image by Narender9)  

A flirtatious society is usually a healthy society and the red of romance is an integral hue of Holi. No festival imbibes the naughtiness and flirtatiousness of Holi; which probably is second only to Garba in Gujarat during Navratras when it comes to sexual escapades. Part of this could be attributed to the fact that in local folklore, this festival finds its origins in Lord Krishna’s raas-leela (flirting and romancing) with thousands of his girlfriends/wives (16000 to be precise). Yeah, he is a GOD! Come to think of it, Holi epitomizes the dichotomy in Indian society. A prudish and sexist society legitimizes flirtation, free intermingling of sexes and thandai (Indian milk based drink often laced with bhang, a form of weed) during this festival which surprisingly also hardly has any religious rituals associated with it. So, we get one day of having pure unadulterated fun in the year(thank you ancestors!). Hence, I also feel that we do a poor job of promoting this festival. The lathmar holi; when women play act beating up the men with sticks and the stampede of color in Barsana in Braj (birthplace of Krishna) can rival any cultural travel experience in the world whether it’s Tomatina in or  Boryeong. 

Life in technicolor during 2014 Holi party in Brooklyn 

Even though I am usually mentally prepared but sometimes, there is a sharp tinge in my heart when I wake up hoping to see colored faces, some fervent running, shrieks and smell of “gujiyas” (typical Holi dessert, similar to sweet empanadas) and instead find that it’s just another snowed in day in New York. Thankfully, I have a few partners in crime and we try to create our own microcosm on festivals. So, even though our Holi starts at 10 PM with Indian take out and is played strictly with dry colors within a radius of 1 meter in my apartment; we still make it a point to celebrate Holi on the same day as in India every year. 

Holi 2014 in my apartment 

I know I've been reminiscing like an old lady but frankly it's not so bad. Living in New York comes with its own set of perks and you get to celebrate festivals from across the world. There are a few Holi events every year, granted they could happen 3 months after Holi. The Brooklyn open air Holi event last year in May (Holi typically is in March) with the smog of dry colors, technicolor faces, rap and hip hop music and, food carts selling chicken wings to South Indian dosa was as much a success as it was representative of the cultural melting pot that New York is. This year, a day party in Midtown Manhattan on Holi weekend was timely and more than made up for missing out on fun at home with some Bollywood numbers, dhol and non-stop revelry.   

Holi Party 2015 

To no surprise, the free spirit of Holi can also be misused but I don’t want to go back to black today so saving that rant for a darker day. And yes, the colors can harm your skin, eyes and hair and but then so can sun, air, and rain; so, I'd still say play a little, live a little. My olfactory memory is in overdrive as I write this and I can almost smell my mom's cooking and am humming ‘रंग  बरसे भीगे चुनार वाली' (a famous and definitely inappropriate Indian song about a girl getting drenched in Holi colors).

Bloglets: Of Semi Ski Trips

In addition to having to wade through several feet of snow or slush (if you live in New York); winter in this part of the world also earmarks the period of supposedly fun and adrenaline filled ski season. I recently went to my annual ritual of a trip to upstate New York (Hunter/ Wyndham) for a semi ski trip. I call it semi because only half the crew (5 out of 10 people) did partake in any form of skiing and the rest preferred slipping into the warmth of blankets over slipping on the slopes. To be fair, it was probably the smartest thing to do, given these were the choices (refer image below). 

The choices were pretty self explanatory 

My ambivalence towards snow or ski is not very difficult to explain. While exciting and new, it’s also something most people born and brought up in Indian peninsula have not been equipped or trained to deal with. The romance of first snow is so enticing that I myself have made innocuous prayers for it to snow like crazy. However, reality hits when you end up spending most of your day shoveling or avoiding a hip fracture while performing basic life tasks like walking or standing. The romance wears off pretty quickly after that, like in case of a beautiful but belligerent bride. 

My first ski lesson 

One can come across many wide eyed Indians including yours truly, who are thrilled about their first ski trip, primarily due to the novelty factor and the fact that they have no idea what it entails. Very soon they realize that 'these (ski) boots are not made for walking'. Also, that first trip pretty much seals one’s ski destiny. The first category takes to it naturally and finds itself engulfed by the passion for skiing and heads for glory on the Black diamond slopes and maybe even a few broken ribs in their attempts to tame the shrew (continuing with my analogy). At the opposite end is the category of the ones who cannot ski for their life and make peace with the fact that they are physiologically not made for this sport. A realization which comes easily when a toddler swooshes by while they are still taking ski lessons or figuring out how not to dislocate their ankles while trying to stand up with some ounce of dignity or when skiing translates into falling and rolling on the slopes for most part. Then there is the third category who will continue to have a love-hate relationship with skiing as they are decent enough to not absolutely hate it but can never be good enough to really enjoy it. 

I believe that I fall closer to the third category. I have made peace with the fact that I do not want to put myself through the pains to become mediocre at something I barely enjoy. At the same time, I cannot let go of an idea of a ski trip which usually also involves a road trip, a cabin filled with friends, laughter with something or the other always brewing or cooking (usually gossip, romance, Irish coffee, hot cocoa and brownies in that order) and where snow fights are the game du jour. 

Ski Trip to Hunter

Hence, I have found the “Golden mean” in snow tubing. The slopes are not too high, the lines are shorter and, it requires no unusual gear and little or no maneuvering to come down the slopes. Also, your behind is happily and safely perched on a tube and you look more like a funny pretzel than a pair of crooked chopsticks about to break. What’s even better is that you can find company in your misery or fun as you can do it in tandem with other friends.

Snow tubing on Hunter (courtesy google images as I was too busy having fun to take pictures) 

Another reason why I personally am not a big fan is how shabby the ski clothes make me look. With my jumpsuit and down jacket and the ski boots, I look like a stuffed teddy bear that is ready to go splat on her face. This fashion fiasco is just not limited to me but applies to anyone who does not want to drop a few thousand dollars for this seasonal activity. On that note, I recently discovered that brand snobbery is very much a part of anyone who takes up skiing seriously. Hiding behind those giant ski goggles, there is as much of scrutiny of the brand names and tags on the slopes of Vermont or Vail (popular ski destinations) as there is on 5^th avenue (famous for shopping in NYC). To put things in perspective, a discussion around a rocker or a camber (types of ski) is akin to having a discussion around cross-body or a minaudière (types of evening bags) and justification for anything expensive as an investment piece is no different, whether it's on the slopes or in the fashion echelons of NYC.

Another group ski trip pic with our 'fashionable' ski gear :)

I have always wondered why people choose skiing when there are options like snow tubing, dog sledging, snowmobiling etc. Ok fine, dog sledging is probably cruel but snow mobile or tubing? But then again, I have never understood why people do soul cycling either: P. Now, all this ski talk is making me want to fix up a hot chocolate with Baileys and reminisce about the time not spent on the slopes during our last trip to Catskills where we had rented out a fantastic cabin in the woods. While I am at it, I may order some chicken wings to go with the barbecue sauce I bought at the Catskill Mountain country store (highly recommended for brunch and it's condiments).