North Tour: Gangtok: Not your ordinary Holi-day

Tuesday, 22 March

NEW JALPAIGUDI TO HOWRAH: I’ve celebrated a lot of holidays and festivals since coming to India. You rarely have to wait a week, or even a few days, for the next one to come around. Having spent eight months in India, I have a pretty large sample size from which to choose my favorite Indian holiday.

So when I say Holi has been my favorite holiday in India, that’s saying something.

Choose the clothes you’ll wear during Holi wisely. Because there’s virtually no chance they’ll come back looking like they were before going out. In fact, if they do, double-check the country you’re in. It’s probably not India.

Why bother? Because Holi is little more than an excuse to go color other people in public.

By “color”, I mean “throw powder onto,” “spray died water onto” or “smear color onto the faces of those around you.” The dye, while not permanent, doesn’t wash out easily, and after spending two hours outside, we were left looking like various combinations of zombies, the boogeyman, and the Hulk.

As we played in the Gangtok streets, our white T-shirts stopped resembling white T-shirts. So much red, yellow, green, purple and blue was splattered on our clothes, none of their original colors remained. The 13 of us had a mutual agreement to turn each other’s clothes into epic souvenirs. Each blank spot was sought out and filled in. Each patch of uncolored skin and hair was dyed. If any one color seemed too predominant, others were sprinkled in where needed.

Thanks to several water bottles and a new kind of powder, pink became the predominant color on our shirts. Because water intensifies the Holi colors, everyone was soon saturated in hot pink. After an hour in the Gangtok streets, I was unable to distinguish our nationalities from those of the Indians nearby. Our skin colors, hair colors and exuberance in celebration left us looking so similar to the surrounding locals that even a scintillating eye couldn’t tell us apart. Franzi, a natural blonde, didn’t have a single blonde hair left when we returned to the hotel.

I took no pictures or videos on the day, and most of us had decided the risk of our cameras getting ruined was too high. So I have nothing but my pen to describe the scene of Holi in Gangtok. Of small children squealing in delight and showering us in Holi water. Of men friendshipping us by hugging us and rubbing powder on our faces. Of a permanent layer of pink dust coating the main road when we walked the city hours later, all participants having gone home for lunch, an afternoon nap, and a compulsory hot shower.

I originally wished I’d been in Nagpur for Holi, so as to celebrate with my host family. But I take no issue with having spent it in the Himalayas with my friends. It could hardly have been any better than it was.

Holi is about having fun.

And as we danced in public together at the end of our outing, we couldn’t stop smiling.

🙂

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