Try and Dry

Enter one of the worst state droughts in history and Holi plans start dissolving faster than a bhang addict’s reality. Brace yourselves water babies,all those crazy poolside bashes at sundry grounds,hotels and highway resorts may soon just be a soggy memory. Yes,our collective conscience is being called upon to blink,think and shake off the excess. Plentiful Pune (relatively) has several altruistic albeit dispiriting suggestions for festival water-management pouring in,while its parched neighbours grapple with far tougher problems.

A city-wide drought of public Holi celebrations is a foregone conclusion this year. Sulking too much over this might obscure the passably consoling silver lining: did you know that herbal colours are so much more becoming when dry and distinguishable? No “rejuvenating facial” appointments required for ladies the next day either. And men,too,will be spared the usual criticism for smearing unidentifiable and indelible paste on soft targets. Don’t forget,no water equals one less weapon for the attackers. Playground underdogs can rejoice at the prospect of a dry Holi. And so can the bullies,for wet blankets will be literally driven to extinction.

On the other hand,though,water is certainly among the more benign agents of combat. Take it out of the equation and you’re left nursing painful air-balloon bruises or washing eggs out of your hair. And no,the lingering stink is not worth its conditioning effect. So perhaps I ought to take my words back and say instead that a dry Holi will be very dangerous and depraved indeed.

If you’re the right sort of reveller,this should be an instant draw. Since we have established that Holi is largely about startling people,annoying non-participants and pushing the boundaries of propriety within legal limits; its motto should be,The Grosser The Better. There you have it. A sure shot motive for abstaining from rain dances — at least until they come with free spa after-parties.

On a more sombre note,there could be few nicer ways to mark a mass festival than by sparing a thought for the deprived masses. Not to mention the back pats you get from being socially conscious nowadays,if that’s what floats your boat.

Of course,it’s highly improbable that the pink water flowing down our garden drains will spurt out of a villager’s hand pump if we close the tap; much like wasting the food on our plates really has nothing to do with starving children in Africa. Whoever invented these epic corollaries and guilt trips was a Machiavellian genius and doubtless related to some duty-shirking official. All the same,it’s a tad embarrassing to imagine what a visiting farmer from Marathwada might think while walking past a public Holi party in full swing.

The author is a chess grandmaster and former national champion.