Playing Holi!

Firstly, let me apologise to all for not posting sooner. A combination of power failures, lack of photo upload abilities, travel, hotel finding, work, and last but not least laziness has kept me from this. I'm now in McLeod Ganj (Bhagsu to be precise) and at work again.

Today (4th of March) was the Indian holiday known as Holi. After hearing some horror stories from travellers about getting caught outside during the festivities I had decided to play it safe and stay in my hotel all day writing. However, last night Lachlan had suggested to Jess (my new travel mate) and I that we all walk into the hills to explore a valley he and I had seen on a previous morning's walk. It seemed like a nice chance to have a full day off work and see some of the non-touristy India, as well as say goodbye to him.
As a personal experience of culture and festivity it is certainly the highlight of my trip so far, and probably one of my most treasured travel experiences. According to Jess, who is travelling to research and paint/draw such folktales (see her blog link to the right for more details), there are numerous legends concerning the origins of the Holi tradition, but I'm with her in thinking that the Krishna + Radha one seems most likely, especially given Krishna's popularity and the influence he has as a character on Indian culture through the Bhagavad Gita. Krishna, upon complaining to his mum about how unhappy he is with the skin colour difference between himself and Radha (his number one Gopi girlfriend), is told that skin colour is a minor matter - why not just dye it another colour?? Much playful throwing of coloured dyes between the two ensues (Krishna is the master flirt and ladies man). Cutting to the contemporary world, what results today is a festival that in which people participate by running around and throwing dye and coloured water on each other. In other words fun!! I was lucky enough to spend it with two wonderful people in a setting so unexpectedly lovely that I feel refreshed and reset by the experience.
The day started much as most of my other days in Rishikesh have - up early and out to Devraj Bakery. Walking through the street at the ungodly hour of 8am (Indians wake a little later than Australians it seems) it took me a few minutes to realise that all the shops were closed, and, when I arrived, so was Devraj. As those who have met me here will attest this was a devastating situation. Every breakfast I have had in Rishikesh has been 'at the office' as it is now called. Thus I wandered aimless in a state of loss and personal rejection (surely Deepak must know that I need my jam toast and black tea today, as every other day?!?!). The empty lanes of Lakshman Jhula passed by me unnoticed. Eventually I found myself back at Devraj, vain hope unconsciously guiding me, no doubt. Despondent I looked around and noticed a vantage point I had somehow missed for the last two weeks.
Set on the roof of the building that houses the support wires for the bridge was a nice little perch with a seat looking directly down the line of the superstructure. A good place for a self-portrait!!
As I was taking the photo Jess turned up, also looking forlorn (craving her usual Devraj muesli with curd, no doubt). Commiserating each other on our loss we set off to find a place to eat. Oasis, round the corner, seemed likely, and as we perused the menu I spotted Lachlan crossing the bridge, his body language communicating a his unbelief at the closure. I jogged over to get him and the three of us broke our fast (though Oasis is not a patch on Devraj and took a good hour to make Lachlan's banana pancake). Sated, we set off to find the valley entrance. Given our lengthy stay at the 'restaurant' the day's festivities were already beginning to get under way.
When one walks out and participates in the celebration, one is said to be 'playing Holi'. Not a hundred meters up the road we began our day of play, encountering our first group of revellers - a mob of teenage boys covered in red dust. Needless to say each of us was done with what would turn out to be the standard Holi play - a shout of 'Happy Holi!', a handful of dry pigment smeared across the forehead and into the hair and face (my beard was very popular), and then a hug, as if to apologise for the slightly aggressive, albeit brief intrusion of personal space. I instantly found it playful and affectionate in a way that can perhaps only be in India. As we made our way through the winding alleys we were ambushed by several troops of children who would squeal with delight at the very moment of attack - squirting us with water or lobbing dye-filled water bombs our way. But it wasn't only the kids. Oh no. The mums and dads often got in on the action (buckets seemed popular) or stood on the thresholds shouting tactical advice and handing our ammunition.
Reaching the creek that emerges from the valley we had chosen we set off up a stony track beside the stream, the water bubbling excitedly to our side. This was where the day truly turned magic; as we climbed through the thinning houses and opening fields the shreds of drunken aggression that had been brewing in town were lost amid the giddy shouts of children and the joyful dancing and singing of their families. Virtually all were 'marked' in someway, with a number of the kids and younger adults taking a psychedelic appearance, so covered were they in various dyes. The same was true for us by that stage too. Admittedly there were some... tense moments, I guess you might say. At one point a coordinated two-wave assault (pincer I believe) saw me take a bucket of water down the back and Jess similar down her side and into her bag, in which was her sketchbook (her reason for being and travelling). There were a couple of worried minutes as we leafed through the book to make sure all was ok before quickly stashing it in my bag which I had lined with a poncho that morning (thanks again to Abi for that one!). Also, some of the men were probably a touch more interested in playing Holi with Jess than with Lachlan or I (she was certainly the most 'painted' of the three of us by the day's end). But these were minor issues.
Passing through more little settlements where we were offered coffee and food, and even to join one family's celebrations, we eventually came to a pleasant little pool by a small abandoned ashram and decided to stop for lunch.
We munched on pomegranates and Kit Kats and listened to the water sing its timeless song. Occasionally locals would pass, wishing us a happy Holi, though I noticed that now we were high out of the town the amount of pigment was significantly less - poorer people perhaps, or maybe just less time to play, with fields to work. After a while we were joined by two boys who had come to wash their Holi dye away in the stream. Both were covered head to toe, and with the uninhibitedness only children can maintain simply walked fully clothed into the water and frolicked, picking up their bar of soap to scrub only as an afterthought.
Lachlan, clearly gifted with kids, began to play with them. We shared some of our food (including a lesson from Lachlan on not throwing Kit Kat wrappers into the stream) watched them attempt in vain to get clean.

After they left us (shivering bodily despite the warm sun) we set off again, though soon turned back feeling the a desire for a more filling lunch than fruit and chocolate. The walk back down to town was marked by the comparative quiet. The kids, many looking freshly bathed and tired out from the morning's hyperactivity, just smiled or waved. Adults lounged in chairs, chatting and laughing. In town the occasional person was still at play, but most seemed spent and the streets were still (I noted a number of small piles of vomit dotting the roadside - too much pigment perhaps). Back in Lakshman Jhula we searched out a restaurant that Lachlan knew to be good and, once there, the three of us sat quietly, our bodies warm and pleasantly tired from the walk and play.
It was such a beautifully perfect day. These words do no justice to it I'm afraid, though hopefully they communicate some of how special it was for me.

Love to my travel companions.