Happy Holi

Set a tower of wood and cow dung on fire, race to the top, and pull furiously at a live branch before carrying it to safety. This is how Indians re-enact the sparing of young Prince Prahlad, who's demon king father seethed with jelousy over his son's devotion to God. The King convinced Prahlad's Aunt Holika to take him in her lap and sit in a bonfire, thinking her magic powers would save her as the boy was destroyed. But young Prahlad's devotion to God earned him a ticket from the flames and Holika burned alone with her sin.
 
After the "rescue" and triumph of good over evil, everyone circles the methane blaze. Women sprinkle water and the men toast wheat, which brings luck, and tastes rather good.

 

The next morning we knowingly dressed in our worst clothes and headed out to Holi's Festival of Colors. Being the only white people in Mt Abu to join the action, we were high priority targets. First we played with the kids, who were eager to douse us with chilly purple water from every angle. It was good, sloppy fun. Then, away from the backstreets of the old market, the adults had their turn. Hundreds of hands soothed our face with silky, eye-popping powders. Hugs were given. Happy Holi's were spoken. And invitations to sit a chat were readily taken up. We felt warm and fuzzy all week long.

   

Comments

[Grant]

Wuzi,
This looks nuts (the fire/shit/dung pile climbing thing that is)!
The scream is bloody terrifying!
Looks like you're still having an adventure and a half!!!
Grant Kaiser (in case there's any other)