Holi space

The four of us pile into our trusty Maruti and get on the Brajabhumi trail.

The four of us pile into our trusty Maruti and get on the Brajabhumi trail. The 160 km journey from Delhi has become much easier now, with a long stretch converted into a multi-lane highway. Along the road, one can spot festive villagers in all the colours of the spectrum.

But this is nothing compared to Vrindavan. The ambush begins in waves, and the smarter lot yank open car doors and douse occupants. After witnessing one such 8216;attack8217;, we lock our doors. Meanwhile, our car gets smeared, sprayed, palm-imprinted with everything from dry colour to a suspicious-looking spray a young man is using impartially from a converted welding machine. The only person not amused is my friend on the left. It is his car.

After winding our way through the narrow roads of the old town and seeing no alternative, we get out, lock the doors, and march into the throng. Everyone here plays it, and everyone wants to be remembered for having the most fun, which loosely translated means wreaking the most havoc. The streets run red, literally, as buckets of coloured water come crashing down. 8220;Clever people,8221; we say. 8220;First they create a town of labyrinthine streets and then they create a festival to give us lessons in urban warfare.8221;

The half kilometre walk to the 142-year-old Banke Bihari temple is the most daunting part. The Banerjees, from Mumbai, reach the precincts, get drenched, see the crowd, fold hands and walk back. Inside, though, is another story. Nearly a thousand persons are packed into a courtyard inside the most popular Krishna temple in India, throwing gulal at each other, or at the idols. Inside the sanctum sanctorum, priests try to keep the colour from messing up the idols. With sunlight streaming in from high skylights the scene resembles some frenzied medieval fest. Outside, residents share their pedas and gujia, the latter looking suspiciously laced with bhang. More than 20 km away, at the third point of a triangle with Vrindavan and the famous Govardhan hill, is another hill. At its base is Barsana, famous for its lath-maar Holi. This is Radha8217;s village, now rather drab. On top of the hill, is another temple, with detailed paintings from the Lord8217;s childhood.

In the afternoon, we stop in the middle of a wheat field. Sitting there, as Holi-ed cars go by shouting out wishes, we think of the God who spent His childhood here. No wonder He went on to do the things they say He did.