Holi (Festival of Color)
Bihar Ki Holi!
The name itself splashes colors and makes the heart bloom with hope, love and life. I owe my knowledge of the tradition to my grandparents, who would not only tell me ‘what to do’ but also ‘why it needs to be done’. With winter ending in the subcontinent, the change of season brings along a host of allergies, viral fever and cold. Playing with gulal (color powder) acts as a body-conditioner for the warmer months ahead. The traditional gulal, obtained from herbs and roots has coolant, astringent and hemostatic properties. Also called Phagua in our Bhojpuri language, Holi marks the onset of Phalgun (the Hindu calendar counterpart of Spring) and is seen as an invocation for a good harvest season.
Born and brought up in Bihar’s capital Patna, I have witnessed a unique Holi that would last for a night and a day, starting on the evening of the Purnima (Full Moon Day). My memory goes back to the first evening – known as Holika Dahan, when we would light a bonfire in an open space and pray that our internal evils be destroyed in the fire. That night, my grandmother would narrate stories of the significance of rituals, burning of Holika, the evil sister of the demon king Hiranyakashipu, who failed in his scheme to kill his own son Prahlad, a devotee of Lord Vishnu.
The following morning, we would feel the change in the breeze as well as our moods. First half of the day would be celebrated as Rangwali Holi where we drenched each other with rang (wet colors), thankfully wearing the old clothes preserved for the occasion. Not to forget, my mother would advise us to apply mustard oil over face and body, to get rid of the colors soon. However, there were brilliant minds who would wash and bathe their ‘target’ with soap to get rid of the oil first, so that rang would leave a mark long enough to be remembered till the next Holi. Starting from home, the fun would continue through the streets, amidst beating of drums, to a few kilometers, until no one could recognize “who’s who?” The kindest gesture would be to sing “Buraa na maano, Holi hai!” (Please don’t mind, it’s Holi) before splashing colors on passersby. And that casual exchange of smiles between strangers would translate into roars of laughter, love and affection.
The second half of the day would see the arrival of Shehnai*1 players and attar walas*2 whom my grandfather invited from Patna Sahib (an old area of Patna), to add to the festivities. Dressed in new, white clothes, we eagerly awaited our relatives and friends. And waiting with equal excitement would be the big thaal (plate) containing packets of colorful abeer (dry gulal). Youngsters would place a pinch of abeer on elders’ feet, as a mark of respect, whereas elders would bless by applying abeer on the youngsters’ forehead. So disciplined would be the practice that only the people of same age would smear each other’s face with abeer.
Food for the occasion would include dahi vada*3, thandai*4, kachori*5, maal-pua*6, and besan ki kadhi-phulauri*7. Every household would boast the same menu, yet the taste of each would supersede the other. And visiting each other’s home would be a must, adding that extra fun of meeting the same people twice that evening. As the abeer would fill the air, there would be no distinction of who is who and what is what. In that moment, no caste, no religion would make more sense than the innocence with which we played Holi.
*1 a double-reed conical oboe of North India
*2 professionals who sprinkle a fragrant essential oil called attar, to welcome guests
*3 fried lentil balls dipped in thick yogurt
*4 a sweet drink made from milk whipped with almonds, saffron and poppy seeds
*5 a deep fried snack stuffed with spiced lentils or beans
*6 pancakes of wheat flour and jaggery, dipped in milk
*7 a savory dish made with gram flour