The streets used to be alive with this ditty, “Bura na mano, Holi hai!!”, when we were carefree youngsters growing up in posh South Delhi.
The day started early with a hurried breakfast; the rush to get into old discarded clothes, readying the colours on a plate in careful separate piles; filling balloons with water to throw at unsuspecting passerby’s from our terrace, and of course the ubiquitous ‘pichkari’ filled with coloured water from a bucket kept conveniently near by had to be seen to be believed.Colouring anybody within a touching distance was a given and taken in its spirits, without any other agenda.
The excitement reached crescendo levels by mid morning, with us children drenched to our skins, multi coloured unrecognisable faces and clothes puddling at our feet in many hues as we took a breather.
Tired and happy, our day ended in high afternoons with us and our friends gorging on home made delicacies made by our respective mothers.Lunch of course was a mish -mash of sweets and namkeens picked up from plates kept conveniently full by neighbours and friends.
To this day, Holi brings back these innocent nostalgic memories when the world was a lot safer and wicked thoughts about young girls were held at bay and Holi meant in its truest sense, an exhilarating festival of colours and joy!
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