Anti Holi

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The bedside alarm clock buzzed with a shrill sound. She woke up with a start. Today she didn’t feel sluggish like any other day when she was forced to wake up early. She had never been much of a morning person in her life. But today it was different. She was wide awake just at the first alarm ring. It was 3 am. She sat on the bed for a few minutes just to clear her head for the task ahead. She slid the heavy curtain of her bedside window and peeped out. The darkness hadn’t subsided yet. There was stillness in the air. The whole neighbourhood was in deep sleep. The only light came from the roadside lamp posts which cast a long shadow on the lawn of her house.

She picked up the big iron lock and her house keys she had kept ready on her bedside table the previous night itself. She wrapped her head and half of her face with a black coloured shawl. She looked at herself in the mirror. The reason was not cold. The purpose was to merge with the darkness outside. It was for disguise. She tiptoed out of the house from the backyard door with the lock and keys and her cell phone in hand and reached the front door. She locked the latch of the door from outside with her keys and also locked the iron gate in front of the door with the big lock. She used the dim light of her cell phone when needed. Her hands were shaking a little but she somehow managed. She looked around to see if anybody was watching her. The roads were deserted except a few stray dogs on the sides who were fast asleep. Her heart was beating loud in her chest. She hurried to her backyard, entered the house from the backdoor and locked it from inside. Then she went on to lock all her windows and drew the heavy curtains. 

She went back to her room, threw open the shawl and sat down on the bed breathing heavily. Sweat beads had formed all over her face. She wiped them with her hand and gulped down a big glass of water. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. It calmed her down a bit. She felt tired. Then she dropped her head into the pillow and fell asleep immediately.

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Rangoli sat huddled up in the corner of her sofa and kept staring at the front wall. It was a blank wall. The paint had peeled off at certain places due to water seepage and created a fluff. It looked like clouds floating in an off-white sky. It needed repairing. Rangoli seemed to be looking at it but her mind was elsewhere. Occasionally, she gazed at the closed front door trying to follow any movements or sounds outside. Each time, a look of relief crossed her face when there was none.

The whole house smelt of a mixture of sandalwood incense stick and savouries deep fried in oil. She had made ‘dahi vadas’ (a delicacy). It was her favourite dish made by frying ground urad daal (type of lentil) in oil and then dipping them in beaten curd. She never missed making it on this particular day. She was unable to sleep much after her early morning endeavour. Her sleep was studded with bad dreams. So, she woke up, took a bath and did pooja (worship) and even wore a new dress. Today it was Holi.

The scrumptious plate of vadas dipped in creamy curd with tangy tamarind chutney dripping from it with a dash of spicy masalas sprinkled on top of it sat on the centre table and stared at her in an anticipation to be devoured. She had served it for herself with an intention to eat it but it stayed untouched. Her cup of ginger tea had long gone cold. Although she drank a full bottle of water, her throat felt strangely dry. There were sweat beads on her forehead even though the weather was not that hot. She kept on scratching the intricate flower pattern made of pink thread on her new white chikankari kurta (type of dress).

Shekhar had ditched her. He had promised to stay with her today but at the last moment some urgent office work had popped up and he had to go out of town. She was infuriated. As such he was a great husband and this time also, he apologized to her many times but today Rangoli was unable to forgive him. She was mature enough to understand that work was important but still she felt betrayed. Till now, every year she made sure she had some or the other excuse to avoid playing Holi. It was either an exam, an illness, an urgent work or an office trip. If nothing then at least someone was always there with her if she stayed home. But today was the first time that things didn’t go according to her plan. She was left alone at home on the day of her most dreaded festival, Holi.

Rangoli’s eyes and ears were on high alert mode. She always felt that her neighbours had an unusual craze of playing Holi and they wanted to include each and everyone around them to play with them. That was her fear and the reason for hatching the ‘locking the door from outside’ plan. 

She picked up every little or loud sound from the happenings outside her house. In the beginning, there were sounds of few people chatting and greeting each other. The frequency increased with the passage of time as more and more people from her neighbourhood came out and gathered to play Holi. Their loud laughter startled her at times. Their whispers made her curious. Her heart beat had almost stopped when few of them came to her house and rang the bell without checking the lock. Relief came to her only when they didn’t receive a response and then noticed the lock and left murmuring among themselves. It was taxing on her brain but she was still in control. 

But it all went awry when the drum rolls started. Someone started playing the drum and she could hear people singing and guessed they might even be dancing. She felt each beat of the drum was directly banging on her chest. She pressed the cushion close to her chest and tears streamed out of her eyes. She cried out.

“I miss you mom!”

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“Come here Rangoli!… see what I brought for you”

The four-year-old Rangoli, a sweet chubby girl came running upon hearing these words and jumped into her father’s arms. Her father cuddled her lovingly and placed a kiss on her forehead. He took out a little plastic ‘pichkari’ (a toy for spraying water) from his bag and handed it to her.

“This ‘pichkari’ is for you… we will play Holi with this… we will fill it with water and ‘gulal’ (powder colours) and spray it at each other… it will be so much fun!”

Little Rangoli’s face brightened up on seeing the colourful red and yellow coloured plastic ‘pichkari’. She took it in her hand and jumped with joy,

“Such a pretty thing! We will have a great time Papa… I can’t wait to play my first Holi!”

Both father and daughter hugged each other in excitement. 

Just at that instant Rangoli’s mother came from inside the house and snatched the ‘pichkari’ away from her little hands.

“Are you mad Ashok? What do you think you are doing? I’m not going to let my little baby play Holi. It’s dangerous for her” She looked bewildered at the thought.

“What are you saying Kajal? We didn’t let her play Holi when she was very small. But now she has grown up. I will teach her to be careful. She will be okay. Don’t worry “He tried to pacify her. 

“Have you lost your mind? What if someone puts some chemical laden colours on her. She has sensitive skin. Or someone pours dirty water on her? “Kajal spoke with horror in her eyes.

“Nothing like that will happen. We will play with family and close friends only. All are sensible people. Moreover, I will be there to take care of her”, Ashok tried to assure her.

“You? I don’t trust you a bit.”, Kajal said, rolling her eyes.

“In fact, I don’t trust anyone when my baby is concerned. Do you even remember how many temples, churches and dargahs we visited to have a baby? How much I longed to have a baby of my own and nothing was working out?”

“Now finally when God has blessed us and shown his kindness by giving me my precious little girl, I can’t take that for granted. You can get careless about her safety, but not me. Don’t even dream about playing Holi with her. It’s risky for my baby” She warned him pointing her index finger at him.

Kajal threw the ‘pichkari’ and snatched Rangoli from his arms. 

“I will protect you from the world my little baby”. She cajoled Rangoli in her arms, took her in the room and locked the door from inside.

Kajal was highly possessive and over protective of her daughter. She never allowed anyone to drop a single speck of colour on her. She believed colours were harmful for her and hated all the mess it created. Each year, she would lock her in a room where nobody could reach her till evening. As time passed, Rangoli developed an intense fear for Holi.

On the contrary, her father loved colours. So much so that when she was born, he had held her in his warm embrace and named her ‘Rangoli’ meaning a ‘beautiful pattern of colours’. He had said she would make their life colourful.  But the distance that was created between father and daughter because of her mother due to over protectiveness could never be bridged.

Their marriage was turbulent right from the beginning and the bitterness increased as time passed. Rangoli was torn between her love for her father and mother. 

Ashok fell sick and didn’t live long. On his last days, he had told Rangoli that she was the only colour that was left in his life. She missed her father terribly. When he died, she could feel her life crumble to pieces. 

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The plan of deceiving others into believing that she was not present in the house was working perfectly till now. But every minute felt like an hour. She was scared even to move from the sofa in the fear of making a noise. She tried to eat the dahi vada but wasn’t able to swallow even a bite due to nervousness. She only sipped water.

She thought of calling Shekhar or her mom but couldn’t risk being heard by anyone. She texted them both for some relief. Shekhar was busy in a meeting so couldn’t reply. Her mom gave her further tips for hiding which made her even more anxious. So, she kept her phone aside, shut her eyes and tried hard to relax on her own. 

She had dozed off a little. Just then she thought she heard something. It was different from what she had been hearing till now. Her eyes opened in an instant. The voice seemed to be muffled initially but then it became clearer. Her heart started racing at an alarming rate. Someone was screaming frantically.

“Fire in 203! Fire in 203!”

The fire alarm started blaring loudly. Rangoli was scared to death. House number 203 was just next to her house. Now she was confirmed that she won’t survive this day after all. The day was getting worse with each passing minute. First Holi and now fire! Her whole body started shaking violently due to panic. The decision was tough but there was no other go. She didn’t lose a moment and ran out for dear life. The scare of Holi became secondary. 

Rangoli opened the back door, crossed the grassy backyard and landed straight on the main street and started running as fast as she could away from her house. She was so panicked that she paid little attention to her surroundings. She didn’t notice that the alarm had stopped blaring and there was no sign of a fire truck anywhere. When she realized this, she stopped running, turned and looked back at house number 203. There was no fire.

Rangoli found herself standing in the middle of the street with a puzzled look on her face. All around her, she saw people drenched in water and smeared with vivid colours. She could recognize no one. They had paused their merriment and were staring at her in confusion and seemed to be wondering from where she suddenly emerged. She looked like a pristine white lotus in a muddy pond.

Then she saw and all her doubts cleared away. A group of small boys led by the notorious ten-year-old Bittu (whose tiny frame was coloured from top to bottom and she could recognize him only by his antics) were rolling on the road holding their stomach and laughing. He had a loudspeaker in hand and when he saw her looking at him, he again started playing the fire alarm sound in his mobile and placed it in front of the loudspeaker. Now everything started making sense to Rangoli. Her temple started throbbing due to anger. She clenched her fists in fury.

In the next few moments, everything happened in a blur. Bittu and his children’s gang came running towards her with buckets of coloured water, pichkari and gulal in their hands. They started singing in unison and before Rangoli could react any further they hurled the bucket of coloured water towards her.

“Bura na maano Holi hai! Bura na maano Holi hai!”

(“Don’t feel bad, we are just playing Holi!”)

Rangoli was stuck dumb. She stood in silence holding her breath as the cold water from the bucket splashed on her body. The fine spray of water emanating from the pichkari felt like sparks of fire on her skin. The powder colours thrown at her floated like clouds all around her. They formed a colourful halo behind her head. Her white kurta was white no more. It was splattered with a rainbow of colours. Water dripped from her neatly tied hair. Her face was dotted with a plethora of colours. Even her tongue felt the powdery taste of gulal. The children kept on throwing colours, shouting and laughing. Their song had changed now.

“Rangoli aunty rangili ho gayi! Rangoli aunty rangili ho gayi!”

(“Rangoli aunty got coloured!”)

Time seemed to have paused for Rangoli. Her worst fears had come true. Tears rolled down her cheeks forming a train of clear lines on her coloured face. Her knees started shaking and finally gave away. She fell on the puddle formed around her splashing coloured muddy water everywhere. Next, she started wailing loudly. The children stopped throwing colours on her. The spectators went silent and started murmuring among themselves. They thought she was on the verge of some kind of breakdown. Bittu sensed danger. He took a break from his intense ‘Holi playing’ and stood awkwardly at the farthest place from her. He understood that his plan of forcing Rangoli aunty to come out of her hiding and making her play Holi with them had not gone well. Few of her neighbourhood friends came rushing to her and tried to console her. Bittu’s mother was also one of them. Some tried to comfort her and the rest bombarded her with numerous questions.

“Rangoli what happened? Are you not feeling well?”

“We thought you were out of town… we had knocked your door… couldn’t you hear us?”

“I am sorry on behalf of Bittu…  day by day his naughtiness is increasing by leaps and bounds…”

“Should we call the doctor?”

But none of these words reached Rangoli’s ears. She looked lost and seemed to have been transported to a different world altogether. She just sat on the muddy puddle motionless and stared at the rainbow-colored road. The mild breeze cooled her wet body. Her heart felt light like a feather. Outside she was a mess but inside miraculously she was at peace. She felt that the knot inside her heart had opened. All her fears were washed away along with the coloured water. Her father’s face floated in front of her. He was smiling at her the way she had never seen before. It was pure and serene. His memories came back flooding to her. He had a plastic red and yellow ‘pichkari’ in his hand and was calling her with open arms.

“Come here Rangoli!… see what I bought for you”

Rangoli got up on her wobbly legs and started walking. She made her way through the crowd of people formed around her. All looked confused thinking what she was up to. Her neighbors tried to talk to her but she didn’t reply. Her eyes seemed to be searching someone. Finally, she saw him. 

Bittu at first thought of running away but then decided that it won’t be fruitful since he would have to come back to his house anyway. It was better to face the consequences of his doing right away than unnecessarily delay it. Moreover, he was feeling guilty of making Rangoli aunty cry. Those were never his intentions. He had peeped through one of the windows of Rangoli’s house while playing Holi and had spotted her sitting on the sofa through the slightly ajar curtain. Then he had playfully devised this plan just to have some fun. He had never dreamt that the consequences of his doings would be so drastic.

Rangoli stood face to face with him and stared hard right into his eyes. Bittu looked down and swallowed a lump in his throat. He was unable to look at her out of scare and guilt. Then Rangoli wiped her colour loaded wet face with her right palm and raised it. Bittu shut his eyes tight and held his breath. He wanted it to get over fast. 

What all the people around her, including Bittu thought would be a tight slap on Bittu’s face turned out to be just a smear of colours with her palm on his cheek. Bittu opened his eyes in surprise and saw Rangoli smiling at him. She said baring here multi-coloured stained teeth,

“Bura na mano Holi hai!”

Bittu laughed in relief. All the people around them started laughing too. Rangoli felt exhilarated. She went and hugged all her friends and smeared gulal on their faces. They too put gulal on her and she didn’t mind. The age-old fear had come to an end. Her shackles were broken. Her mind felt free. All her inhibitions were gone. She was reborn. She played Holi and wanted this day to never end….

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