My daughter hates Holi. I hate Holi. I have always hated it. As have my parents. As have most non-Northies I have met growing up in the 70s, 80s, and 90s. (Note: This is difficult for North Indians to understand, or even, as I found out, accept as ‘normal’ behaviour and personal preference).
It is my contention that Holi is not a festival of joy in the fashion that it is celebrated (not just today, but at least for the past 45 years that I remember in my personal experience). According to my experience, it is a festival of Schadenfreude (where one may actually be specifically responsible for the misery of the other that one is enjoying). I say that it was, and continues to remain, an excuse for non-consensual touching, not just of women, but of all genders of all ages. I find it disgusting and reprehensible, not just in the way it is ‘celebrated’, but also in its origins that have at its foundation, the burning of a woman branded as evil, a myth that is reenacted in the environment-sensitive, polluted 21st century by burning wood (yes, literally that) and physical assault of other people in the name of ‘fun’ and ‘tradition’. And so, I ask: what is there to like in this?
P.S.: Yes, one can play with colours, both wet & dry, and have fun. One can consume intoxicants and dance under a waterfall or shower to celebrate. One can play pranks on friends and family. It is supposed to be a celebration at the end of the day, like the parties we invite people to or attend. But the key difference between Holi (or indeed even the cracker-obsessed Diwali) and a party we go to (or throw at our homes) is consent. Unfortunately, we Indians (and I am including myself in it), simply don’t understand this concept, because we have no sense of personal space, privacy, body autonomy, agency, or anything related to individual freedom.
And then, of course, there is this.
P.P.S.: A spirited discussion was had on Facebook, where this was originally posted.
