Finally the festival of Colors is upon us, and by colors I don’t mean
the channel that does Kapil’s reruns three hundred and eighteen times
a day. I’m talking about Holi–the festival that should preferably end
with the suffix ‘Crap’.
Ideally this traditional festival is about using various colors to
make a person completely or partially blind, develop nasty skin
rashes, and then force him to shave off his hair using a blunt fork
because the colors used were basically chemicals derived by vaporizing
sewage water and industrial effluents.
Usually I don’t mind losing my vision to carbon compounds; I drive
around in traffic all the time so my eyes are just basically glazed
marbles that can discern different shapes. But Holi can be a bit
overwhelming especially for me because nobody can be trusted. Not the
oldies, not the aunties, not the kids, not even babies! Just last year
a toddler tried to splash me with her water bottle; I swiftly grabbed
the brat and hurled her into the swimming pool, I bet she learned her
lesson. Although in hindsight I have to say that whoever came up with
the phrase, ‘Swims like a baby’ was technically… wrong.
Holi is usually terrible, however this year it was miraculously even
worse than usual, because this year I was pre-blessed with an
infection. A crazy eye doctor lady first diagnosed me with
lymph sarcoma of the cornea, but then later she wore her soda-bottle
spectacles and checked again, thankfully it was just simple
Conjunctivitis. The good news was that I wasn’t going to die from an
eye scratch, the bad news was that my eye looked like Aishwarya after
a night out with Salman before he decided to being human.
At this stage I looked like a rejected zombie from Fear Files, so I
messaged my boss that I won’t be able to make it to office for a few
days because I had developed Conjunctivitis. Apparently my boss was
too lazy to spell such a long name, so he just ended up telling
everyone I had ‘typhoid’. Now thanks to him I will never get my office
crush to kiss me without her worrying about catching an asexual
So while the whole world danced around in colored atmospheric
pollutants, I just had to sit in home and experience the excitement of
having sulphuric acid poured onto my eyeballs through an elegant
dropper. By the third day the sheer boredom of being trapped inside
the four walls of my home and the fifth wall of Facebook, I actually
longed to celebrate this festival with my rather limited number of
friends. Hopelessly trapped inside my sterilized jail, I slowly began
to realize that Holi is not just about colors. It’s actually about
crazy friends, a little about puppy love, a sense of closeness with
the society, and mostly about crazy aunties dancing in wet white
It’s too late for that now though, the festival is over and I sit here
alone musing over the thoughts of multi-colored Sharma aunty doing the
‘dhak dhak karne laga’ step. I know I have missed the fun this time,
but as Leonardo says about Oscars, “there is always next year”. I will
impatiently wait till Holi comes next year and then I will celebrate
it wilder than a drunk Deepika!
In the mean time I have to go back to pouring acid into my eyes and
hope that this infection will go away faster than ‘Hasee toh Phasee’.
I hope that all you guys had fun and enjoyed the festival without
losing patch of hair or vision.
Happy ……HOLY CONJUCTIVITUS Aaargh!! @%&###$@&#@*%^#*# Screw these eye-drops!