holi. not holy.

I guess the moment that will stay the most from my first Holi in New York was the lady who walked up to where a bunch of us were throwing colours around on a day that had turned suddenly gray, on the usually very sedate Morningside Drive.
- What's happening here? she asked.
Holi, I explained. That's with an 'i', not a 'y'. Indian festival. Spring. Colours.
- Could I have some? she asked. Just on my face. I feel like I need a little colour today.

As k said, you don't realise how much black people wear here till you walk around with pink and green and yellow all over you.

Colours are infectious. Especially when they're in the fragrant, powdery form of gulal. Observe this rather short video. (Rather short because I was missing too much of the fun.) Most of them had never played Holi before. From the video, you can't tell. The soundtrack is non-stop laughter. Colours do things to people. Good things.


Not entirely unconnected - What colour is the sacred?