What a jolly Holi day...

On Monday we celebrated Holi, the Festival of Colours, which has to be one of India’s messiest celebrations.

The pictures really say it all. It involves throwing a) lots of coloured powdered paint b) lots of water and getting very, very messy. It’s like Art Attack on acid. Our original plan was to go to Varanasi for the weekend, but chatting to colleagues one day over lunch they told me this would be the worst place to go. In true bank holiday style apparently everyone, well mainly young males, tend to have a few too many drinks of ‘special’ lassi and go a bit bonkers. This mainly involves applying coloured paint to ladies private parts and severe cases of ABG (Actual Bum Gropage).

How bad can it be I thought? So I had a look on Google, the words ‘carnage’, ‘clothes ripped off’ and ‘surrounded by packs of men’ tended to crop up. I had visions of sprinting through the empty streets of Varanasi, that would be akin to Pamplona in the bull running season, in a frenzied state like the Incredible Hulk, green skin and torn clothes complete. Not a good look, so decided it was best to stay at home, particularly as we have the perfect water bomb throwing position courtesy of our terrace.

Preparations started early with buying suitable supplies. Water pistols, water bombs and the famous ‘Cock Gold’ semi organic powdered paint for maximum rainbow effect. We started the day by applying a protective layer, which involved slathering on a bottle of coconut oil to avoid permanent hair and skin staining. Smelling like Malibu and greased up to the nines, we set up a highly efficient water bombs production line, made our own special lassis with brandy, then the mayhem began. I’d like to think we maximised our position with the water bombs but lame girly throws limited our ability. We probably got one cyclist and someone’s toe wet, but we had fun. The main event actually turned out to be getting totally soaked by an eight year old girl.

Whilst sipping our drinks on the terrace after a mass colour throwing session, we suddenly realised we were being attacked from above and little hands were making light work of us as we got a serious pelting with water bombs. We went up onto the roof to find our landlord and his niece playing with our neighbours. Armed with buckets of water we tried hard to fight back. We failed and again got royally soaked, little girls are not made of sugar and spice it seems, just a mean aim and the right height to get you soaked at crotch level.

So what of the after effects? The next day the streets were still covered with a psychedelic splotch of colours, the occasional dog or cow still had the odd purple patch. Despite three showers, some serious exfoliating, it seems the coconut oil did not provide the protective layer we had hoped for. I am sporting a rather delightful pink eyebrow and have some beautiful purple highlights to my hair that give me a slight wannabe Goth look that are still yet to disappear. Good times.

Highlights: Indian festivals really do rock, so simple but effective a day off work to throw paint the ultimate stress buster (the Tories won’t get my vote unless Holi get’s imported, a bank holiday in February - brilliant), afternoon tea at The Imperial Hotel (again those dangerous words ‘eat all you can’, let’s just say there was Tupperware involved, we’re not ashamed just resourceful), a 2.6kg package arriving at work full of new books to devour (thank you to my lovely Literary Goddess friend, you are an angel), getting ready to go to Puri for the annual VSO conference (it’s 34 hours on the train to get there, it’s all about the journey they say...) and I hate to rub it in for those in colder climes but it went up 5° in 3 days last week, it’s now 31° by lunch time (I’m enjoying it before it reaches daily double Mitchum applications!)