HOLIday

I've always been one of those kids who hide in their mum's dupatta whenever the doorbell rings on Holi, when enthusiastic kids half my height wait eagerly to test their new pichkaris, with me as guinea pig.

I've never been able to understand the purpose behind discolouring beautiful people and transforming them into cartoon characters. Well, my experiences with Holi have always been bad. If not bad bad, they've been humiliating for me, and humourous for most others. And how can I forget that fateful Holi three years ago, a few days before I entered class 6th....

I was merrily hopping to the market, after making sure the coast was clear and not a single pichkari with world destroying capabilities was within the radius of 10 metres. But how was I to know there was an evil plan being hatched on the roof? The next moment, I stood drenched in the red and watery contents of a huge balti, with evil laughs resounding in my ears....

The same day, our over-enthusiastic neighbour dabbed a suspicious-looking blue powder all over my face. Although it washed off, it left me itching all day long, and the skin around my right eye turned an ugly blue-black. I tell you, never trust your neighbour. Especially on Holi.

So when I attended my first day of class 6th, not only were my arms and legs dyed red, I had a huge black patch around my eye. One kid actually had the cheek to ask whether I had gone boxing with my ferocious SST teacher, and she had boxed my eye or something...

Naturally, I'd come to dread Holi, and became a patient of Holiphobia. I migrated from behind the curtains and started hiding under the bed. I would hate the sound of Amitabh Bacchan stretching his vocal chords on Rang Barse. I would wear brand new clothes and think this would sensitize people not to spoil the attire of a poor ol' soul. I was even honoured with the distinction of being the one and only Delhite who hated Holi. (Sheesh, atleast I was honoured with something!)

But this Holi, fate had other plans. I was to be pushed out of the house by my mum and told not to return until every toenail looked colourful. My mum, the same mum, who had once guarded me against all Holi players, said this to me. Dad added fuel to the fire, saying he'd call an ambulance in advance, lest I came back with my mouth filled with toxic colours or something. I felt betrayed. And hurt.

But not wanting to argue, I proceeded cautiously down the road with a packet of herbal colours. I had oiled my hair nicely, so much so my mum could have cooked aloo paranthas with the oil dripping from it. I met my friends from school at the gate, who seemed to have bathed in a rainbow, and hesitantly offered my cheek for a dab of colour. I checked if they too used herbal colours, and constantly reminded them to stop reaching for my eyes, as colours can actually make a person blind. As time passed, I became used to balloons suddenly exploding in my hair and powder going into my mouth and eyes. (Don't worry, nothing happened. I can still see the monitor and the keyboard.) And I hate to admit this, but I soon began to enjoy myself and became a part of all the craziness....

You wouldn't believe this, but I was totally drenched and hardly recognizable. Even my teeth were reddish in colour. I bet I resembled those maths teachers at school, who dabbed lipstick in a hurry during the recess, and came to class with red lipstick sticking to their teeth. When I reached home, my mum screamed and called my dad, claiming there was a hooligan at the door. It took an entire 10 minutes to persuade her that it was me, her lovable daughter, to gain an entry into the house. Then began the rigorous task of removing the colours in the washroom. I scrubbed myself with a pumice stone, till the time my skin threatened to peel off. But I came out with no significant improvement, and reminiscent of that 'fateful' Holi three years ago....

I would love to show you guys my picture and make you understand the severity of my problem, but I don't want an increase in the number of heart patients in our already over-burdened hospitals.

I was later told by my dear friend that the colours she used were 20% stronger and long lasting, to retain the after effects of Holi for a long time. To add to my troubles, my exam results are to be declared the day after tomorrow, and I don't want nasty teachers laughing and scolding me simultaneously. Worse, what if they start giving me cosmetic tips in front of the entire class? Or what if the kindergarden kids start laughing at me?
Oh no, oh no....God, I know Holi goes on for days in heaven, but pleaseeee, step down to earth and HELP ME OUT!

in great trauma,
jan