Holi musings: India should shine in its true colours

In all my life, I’ve played Holi with a degree of immoderation only a couple of years. It was a time of hormonal youthfulness, and yet, despite the haze of copious quantities of bhang and the frisson of sexual charge that hangs over the Holi air, I seem to recall that it was all good-natured fun. If the limits that define everyday societal propriety were breached - and you bet they were!  - it happened in a controlled atmosphere, and among consenting young adults. It was, for someone who hails from deep-south Dravidian lands, an introduction to an ‘alien’ social cultural practice that, while not always decorous, induced a momentary loosening of inhibitions, a welcome break from the stuck-up-ness that otherwise defines us as a society. Over time, of course, as one learnt to work out satisfactory arrangements for social interaction that didn’t need one to be souped up on psychotropic substances, Holi festivals curiously became more enjoyable the ’tamer’ they were and when the “animal spirits”, so to speak, were reined in. In a sense, it was the return to the roots of Holi, when - legend has it - the blue god Krishna smeared Radha with colour so that she could be more like him that rendered it eminently likeable. [caption id=“attachment_676631” align=“alignleft” width=“380”]  Here’s to a colourful, but unintrusive, Holi… Reuters[/caption] It’s been many years since I’ve played Holi, but the sense I get  - from commentaries like this - is that it has ceased to be fun for at least some women because of the assumed licence it provides for some to encroach on personal spaces, even when consent is not specifically given. Today, for instance, my colleagues in the Delhi and Mumbai offices will be working from home, for fear of earning the uninvited attention of Holi revellers if they make the commute to their workplace. And particularly since it comes at a time when there has been an explosion in the number of reported instances of rape and molestation of women in public places, the fear that lumpen elements who are high on bhang may get carried away - and, worse, get away with it - runs high. All this is a tragic inversion of the Holi spirit - and it doesn’t take a deracinated Indian to acknowledge that. As with most things in life, the idea of  ‘mutual consent’ is little understood and appreciated, which is why even stray incidents of excess have the capacity to render Holi a joyless experience for many. Women have it particularly difficult, of course, but even men have the right not to be plugged with water balloons or _pichkari_s or gulal sprays merely for stepping out of their homes on an urgent errand. That having been said, I’m not sure I subscribe to the rampant political correctness that manifests itself in spades come festival time, and finds expression in, for instance a “waterless Holi” as a concession to the drought situation in many parts of India. Nobody can quibble with the need for water conservation at a general level, of course, but this proposal has all the markings of ineffectual  tokenism. In much the same way that switching off lights for an hour a year to observe Earth Hour does nothing for the cause of energy conservation ( more here ) - which is better addressed by public policy measure such as pricing energy right - the “waterless Holi” campaign misses the wood for the trees. If you want egregious instances of water wastage, there are plenty of other places where you can begin. The Nature Conservancy blog lists some of them: it points out, for instance, that it takes 31 gallons of water to make a glass of wine, 400 gallons of water to grow the cotton for a t-shirt,  and 2,847 gallons of water to make a serving of chocolate. Genuine water conservation efforts require us - the wine-swigging, latte-sipping “have-lots”  - to,  first and foremost, dramatically alter our lifestyles every day of the year before we come around to calling for cutbacks on one-day indulgences. So, yes, there is a case for calling for excessive, intrusive exuberance to be reined in this Holi  - and for the festival to be restored to its true colours. But the campaign for a dry Holi, while well-intentioned, is meaningless. Here’s wishing all of you a happy - and safe - Holi. May you paint your life in radiant colours, in a moderate, unintrusive way that acknowledges the sensitivities (and personal spaces) of others…