pachak pachak...

"Aaj Barwani ki holi ki bahoot yaad aa rahi hai. Vaisi holi phir kabhi khelne ko nahi mili. Sach me vo sab baatein bahut yaad aati hai," said didi (my sister Shikha, I call her jiji).

"Haan yaar, aaj subah meine bhi vo hi yaad kar raha tha. Kitna chota tha mein tab, phir bhi kitni saari baatein yaad hai," I could not stop myself saying this. I could feel tears in her eyes, mine - I wiped them.

I was 5 then. My father was a cashier in Bank and we used to live in a two room house in the Jain Colony in Barwani. House no 5, was one among 10 such houses in a row. All shared a common front yard. Enter the house, its the first room (call it living room or drawing room or guest room. For some time it also doubled up as room my elder sister and I shared), then second (dining room, tv room, master bedroom, store room) , small kitchen (no other use, rasoi is always rasoi) and then the veranda (I learnt riding my tobu cycle here). All rooms, on behind the other, their gates in a straight line. From entrance you could see clothes put to dry in veranda. We coined a name for such construction style - rail-ka-dabba.

10 families that housed in this colony were all like us. College professors, retired judge, kirana-dukan owner and likes. Only two of them were Jains (Don't go by the name of the colony). But it was a closely neat society. By that in no way I mean that we had a society with a secretory and in-charge. It was a big family. I remember I spent half my day in House No 4 with Bai (aunt there, whom I always called Bai, my second mom). I was a kid in their family with all the elder bhaiyas taking care of me. Whenever mom scolded me, Bai would come to my rescue. In my mundan nobody could stop me from crying, only Bai came to their rescue, She came and took me in her lap. I was silent and smiling telling her "look they have taken my hairs." Whenever she made something nice, I would be dining from Bhaiya's plate.

Festivals and family functions were moment of great pleasure. Holi celebrations, I distinctly remember. In those areas you celebrate Holi on two days Dhulendi (day next to holika dahan) and rang panchami. And It was rang panchami when we had our function. Now that being a working day for most, the society would wait till everyone came back from work. My father would come back by 4 - all drenched and colored (they celebrated holi in the bank, and also on the way anyone could throw color on you). As soon he parked his cycle (oh that atlas giant, I miss it a lot), the water would start flowing. Colors colors everywhere. Go to elders first, take their blessings, then play with your peers. Everyone played till nobody was left to be colored. All homes are now opened for everyone. Visit them one by one, enjoy the Holi special sweets made especially for this get together, talk about your experience and then move to next house.

Eat, eat and eat.

Laugh, Laugh and Laugh.

Dint I tell you we never needed Bhang to get high. We never used it in fact (or may be they dint give it to me considering I was only 5 then).
Those were the days, when festival meant something else. I grew up, started understanding things. But could never find that fun. I know now what is grade written on a color box mean, but it does not mean anything more than that to me. I hardly played color after school.

I wish those days would come back. That ride on the cycle with anyone from neighborhood (dad would hardly take me out on cycle as he was scared that I might fall) is way more pleasurable than a drive in santro. Those chocolates saved specially for me, those trips to circus - I would never forget them.

A VERY HAPPY HOLI TO EVERYONE.