14th Oct 2024
Holi 2022 was the first ever Holi I played, because of my son! He was about to turn 7, and all the
previous years he had seen Holi standing on the balcony of the house watching everyone else play.
The primary reason my in-laws do not play Holi is to contribute the tiniest bit to saving water. And
I never objected to that, because I found the reason valid. Holi 2022, the curious child wanted to
experience colours and we could not deny his innocent demand. So we got dry colours, applied them to
him, and let him apply us (family members). After that what followed was, me drenched in the
horrible memories of the Holi from my past.
Everything flashed in front of my eyes, as fresh as happening right then, and like I was witnessing
a Live Broadcast. Coming from a remote place, I was never allowed to play Holi. I instead had to sit
inside the house (not allowed to even peep out of the balcony), on both days (Holika Dahan as well
as Dhuliwandan) For 8-9 years I never questioned. But after that, I started feeling like, "Why papa
does not allow me to play Holi?"
My mom used to say, "It is for your good. Just follow it," Again every year the same thing. But, as
I entered my teens and became the only girl who studied in a convent medium school in my locality,
and the one who used to wear all types of outfits, I used to be eve-teased by most of the boys and
men in my vicinity. My parents protected me from all of it. My mom at times even used to reach the
house of those guys to let their parents know what their Laadlas were up to. And then, that year,
something terrible happened. All the guys ganged up and started screaming my and mom's name with
foul language suffixing it with, "Bura na mano Holi hain."
A not so aesthetic still from the same day.
This certainly was very disheartening for a teenager who was confused if she should rebel and fight
against it or ignore it. Teenage is an age where it is difficult to let things go off, we tend to
take everything to heart and try to resolve them or get closure. That day, I dared to sneak out from
a small gap between the opening of the door and the wall to see what happened outside. The girls in
the neighbourhood, same as my age, were being inappropriately touched on every part of their bodies
irrespective of consent. No man left no girl; Relation, age difference, or respect, as if did not
exist that day. The women, who I had only seen in Pallu and Ghoonghat, were out of the houses
exposed to the demons who had all the permissions to do and say anything to any and every woman.
I was so disturbed to see all that, I came and sat inside quietly and never asked my parents why
they did not let me play Holi.
When I moved from my native place to Pune for my graduation, I carried the same memories of Holi. My
friends used to invite me to Holi parties, but I could not attend those parties as the toxic
memories from the past haunted me. After all these years, when my son asked me to play Holi with
him, I decided not to pass on the same dreaded memories and impression of the festival, but rather
let him colour his canvas of memories. After all, festivals are a reason to celebrate, reunite, and
spread love and joy. Holi particularly to make colourful memories. So I agreed. After applying the
dry colour, that one hug and wish coming from him was enough to look towards the festival of colours
with an all-new perspective.
I am thankful to my parents for saving me from a trauma that I would otherwise have carried if I
played Holi the way it was played in my surroundings!
This post is a part of Feeling Festive Blog Hop hosted by Sukaina Majeed
and Manali Desai under #EveryConversationMatters"
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