Thursday, 8 March 2012

A Reflection on the colours of Holi

It was absolutely essential that my Dad had to buy me a new water gun every Holi. It had to be new as well as unique. How funny all that seems now.

When I was a child, the festival of colours was just another festival. Don't worry, I am not going to turn preacher here and dwell on some new spiritual insight I have got. Holi in short, was a time to play with a rainbow of colours and water. It was fun. Why was it fun then and why isn't it the same now? It's not because I'm worried about my hair getting unconditioned and tangled or my skin pores absorbing some harmful chemical. It is because I do not find myself able to lose myself in the joy of the moment.

You see, to play Holi as children do is to lose yourself into a carefree world. To run, to scamper, to not mind being made into a colour pallet. But things change when you have other thoughts, when you wonder whether that project you have on hand will finish. When you worry about the state of your bank account or when that cheque will come in. Or perhaps you might even be idiotic enough to calculate the time wasted in washing all those colours off.

I would like to one day play with these colours like I once did. I would like to get my clothes messed up and not worry how much time I'd take scrubbing out the stains or the other things I could have better invested my time with. Till then those water pistols will remain empty.

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