“Your nose is too clean,”

explained the guy who promptly smeared Holi colors down my face. This weekend is Holi, the Indian festival of colors, which corresponds with the full moon. Though Holi is primarily a North Indian holiday, I managed to “play Holi” both today and yesterday in Hyderabad. Playing Holi basically means covering each other with colored powder or with a water-powder mixture. Though I’ve heard that the more intense Holi celebrations can get a bit dangerous because sometimes people mix acid in with the Holi powder, my Holi experiences have been fun, surprisingly polite, and of course, very colorful. I think we should celebrate Holi back in the U.S. It’s basically an excuse to act like little kids again. You get together with your group of friends and yell “happy Holi” as you give them hot pink streaks in their hair, turn their cheeks green, or make sure that their clothing is completely ruined. Any suppressed vendettas, secret crushes, or more likely, strong friendships, can be expressed all in the name of Holi. Holi also brings together random strangers. On my way to campus this morning, three young men armed with water bottles full of pink dye ambushed my friends and me. Normally I might be a little uneasy if a group of men approached me with rakish grins spread across their faces, but today I knew that it was all in the name of fun and color. At school my friends and I played Holi with a couple groups of Indian students. We didn’t know one another, and to be honest, I probably wouldn’t recognize them if I saw them tomorrow, we were so covered in color.
Nonetheless, guys and girls who normally wouldn’t be seen holding hands with one another in public, showed no mercy as they attacked each other with color. I don’t know if my favorite part of Holi is the trill of playing, the link between strangers that the festival generates, or just the sheer rainbow of colors you can see throughout the city. Coming home yesterday I saw a green and yellow richshaw driver zoom by, soon followed by a man sporting purple hair and a pink complexion on a motorcycle. Right now the pavement outside my house bears a resemblance to a Jackson Pollock painting, though with neon splatters rather than somber browns and blacks. Presumably my hands will regain their normal color…