The very thought of hurling filth-filled balloons at unsuspecting women on the street should have been repugnant. Sadism, however, has dug such deep roots in the psyche of a large cross-section of Nepali population that it thinks nothing of indulging in such an abominable activity. The tragedy is that the law can do very little to control this menace. People themselves should have seized the initiative to end such a disgraceful practice. Unfortunately, society not only condones hurling of Lolas but also laughs at the plight of innocent victims.
Playing with colors is no longer safe, either. Who knows what goes into the making of Abir (the colored powder) that is smeared on the sensitive facial skins of the young, the woman and the aged? Instead of colors mixed in water, liquids sprayed by revelers are often of uncertain antecedent. Some stink of burnt oil. Greasepaint has made way for synthetic enamel that transforms happy faces into ridiculous figures.
Food habits, too, have changed. Elaborate festive menus have become a thing of the past. Mercifully, junk food has not yet replaced home cooking, but the specialty of the day increasingly includes more varieties of red meat and liters of ice cream in addition to traditional sweets. Mix that rich fare with free-flowing alcohol, and you get a picture of the crowds at neighborhood medical clinics, even weeks after the celebrations.
Intoxication, combined with recklessness, is a surefire prescription for accidents of all kinds. Overloaded emergency services at various hospitals are doubly jeopardized as it becomes unsafe for female health workers to travel to their workplaces on Holi day. Many male medical workers assume that they are as entitled to have a day off on festive occasions as any other person of society. When a calling becomes an occupation, nothing more needs to be expected.
The middle class in the hills and mountains fear Dashain for the expenses prolonged festivities entail. In the Tarai-Madhesh, as well as in the Kathmandu Valley to some extent, people eagerly wait for Holi and yet wish for distortions associated with the celebrations to disappear. That is unlikely to happen. Conscious attempts would have to be made to free the festival from social ills that have crept into its practice. Sadly, there is little chance of such efforts being made anytime soon.
Joyous origins
The festival of exuberance is not exactly holy, despite being known colloquially as Holi. It is almost a secular celebration marking the triumph of faith over the tyrannical powers of the state. In legends, Prince Prahlad, son of the almighty Hiranyakashyapu, is buried under mountains, thrown into the seas, hurled at hungry lions and put into the pit of poisonous snakes but survives all ordeals on the strength of his beliefs. Finally, after being set on fire alive, Prahlad walks out of his funeral pyre without a burn or a bruise while his “fireproof” carrier princess turns to ashes. It is a fantastic story, but so are most miraculous tales of antiquity. Whatever the faith of a person, she can see the strength of Supernatural in the story. The agnostics need not worry: Even if there is no Ultimate Creator, there is little harm in having some fun in Her name.
A mundane explanation sounds more convincing. Barley and wheat were some of the first natural “grasses” to be cultivated. Rice needed copious amount of water and was perhaps domesticated with the march of agricultural society much later. In the Great Ganga Plains of South Asia, Fagu Poornima is about the time when winter abates and cereals begin to ripen under the golden sun of the spring.
Fagu is also the season when exhilarating scent of mango and Mahuwa (Madhuca longifolia) flowers drive cuckoos nuts, which then rent the air with soul-piercing calls and heartwarming songs of love and longing. Bees swarm yellow mustard fields. Having announced her arrival somewhat gingerly during Basant Panchami earlier, the season of procreation comes of age by the Fagu day. It is time to drop inhibitions and drink from the cup of life.
Red is the color of passion. Water is emotion. The fire of Chir Daha—Holika Dahan for some—is lust-destroying but life-enhancing. The energy of existence renews itself during every Fagu.
The Buddha said that the world is full of sorrows, but the release from endless grief need not be in penance alone. The society can work as shock absorber during periods of trouble and multiplier of joy when good times begin to roll. Perhaps that is the message of Holi, but only when its essence is not lost in the excesses of mindless celebration.
Affirmation of life
In not too long ago a time, Fagua in eastern Tarai-Madhesh began with Basanta Panchami. On Falgun Poornima (the full moon of the spring) evening, Sammat was set on fire and all misunderstandings of previous year would be consigned to the flames. Next morning, every male of the village would travel to the site of the Sammat, circumambulate the pyre and sprinkle ashes upon themselves, chanting the mantra of survival—Je jibe se khele fagu, je mare se lekha le (Those who live play Fagu, the dead pass into memories). The funeral pyre of the Sammat was out-of-bounds for females because rituals of death were considered polluting, and purity of woman was of paramount concern in the patriarchal society. It also has its practical implications: the home has to be kept running, the very young and aged have to be cared for, and the hearth must remain warm.
Playing with mud and water on the way back from the Sammat site did claim some unsuspecting victims, but it never was so bad that a stranger running errand or going about his business would fall prey to revelries. Colors would come later in the day, but the dominant part would still be singing Fagu songs and going around every house wishing sada anand rahe yahi dware, mohan khele hori ho (May happiness prevail forever on this doorstep, may the Deity of Love play here forever).
Consigning the Sammat to the flames may have had a symbolic meaning. It perhaps implied putting inhibitions into the fire. Everyone is born a Shudra—a person with primal urges. The society trains her to conform to its rules and accept an appropriate status in life. Fagu was perhaps a day to remember that without the Shudra element in all of us, life would have extinguished like the fire of Sammat (the public consensus) that destroys individuality.
The primal spirit has its uses in ensuring survival; but without moderation, the practice runs the risk of alienating a very large section of the population. The news that truckloads of balloon were impounded by the police from the Nepal-Tibet border to be released only after Holi points out the risk: If society does not mend the ways it observes a festival, it will not take long for the polity to criminalize the tradition.
Wishing Happy Holi sounds more secular, but the right way of exchanging greetings during Fagu is still a full-throated cry of “Jay Shambho!” – Hail the Destroyer – for it is He who cleanses the world the Goddess of Creation builds. Together, they ensure that the world fails, learns, lives and succeeds even as the cycle repeats itself endlessly.
Related story
Fagu Poornima, festival of colors, today
