Under the colors of Holi

There are memories that brand you like a red-hot iron, or rather… with bright colors. When we lived in New Zealand, we fell in love with Holi from the very first time. This mix of love, respect, and that crazy energy that erases distances was a revelation. So, when we were able to find that spirit again in England, we jumped at the chance. But this year, life had a slightly different scenario in store for us.

It was impossible for me to jump into the crowd with my surgery wounds still fresh. I had to be good and stay in the car. I watched Doudou and the kids leave, and half an hour later, seeing them come back completely covered in pigment, it was a real spectacle. They were hilarious, transformed into heaps of color.

For Jaja, it was another story. The tumult and the noise were too much for him; he preferred to stay in the quiet with me in the car. But the desire to participate was definitely there, lurking behind his curious eyes. That's when his Daddy had the right idea: he brought back a pot of pigment so he could have his own little festival in our garden once we got home.

And honestly? It was perhaps even better. We adapt; that's real life!

If one scratches a little under the colorful surface, this festival draws its roots from deeply symbolic ancient traditions. Historically, it marks the transition to spring, but it also carries a strong charge of renewal, purification, and transformation. The legend of Prahlad and Holika, often at the heart of the stories, celebrates the victory of good over evil, of righteousness over oppression. One also finds the playful and romantic dimension of the games between Krishna and Radha.

Beyond the mythology, what is particularly interesting to observe in this celebration is what several anthropologists have highlighted. McKim Marriott explains that Holi stages a dramatic balance between destruction and renewal of the world, as well as between pollution and purification, which plays out both in the symbolic principles of the rite and in the experience of each participant. However, as Babb also pointed out, this suspension of social hierarchies remains limited: Holi does not completely overturn the norms of everyday life.

It is precisely this mix of transgression, momentary freedom, and a return to order that makes this festival so fascinating. In the cloud of colors, the usual distinctions seem to fade away, and everyone enters, for a moment, into a more common and shared humanity. This is exactly what we felt the first time: this invisible barrier that falls when we become, for the duration of a day, an abstract and living canvas.

For children, it’s so much more than a game. It’s offering them a concrete gateway into another culture, showing them that respect and sharing can be expressed with exuberance and indulgence (because let’s face it, Indian food is sacred!). They learn that the 'other,' with their traditions, is not 'weird,' but simply the bearer of another way of celebrating life.

Ultimately, whether in the middle of a huge crowd or in the total intimacy of our garden, the message of Holi is there: joy does not need grandiosity to be authentic. We ended the day exhausted, colored from head to toe, and with that very simple feeling that we had done something important together.

sources :

• Victor Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure.

• McKim Marriott, “The Feast of Love” (1966).

• Babb, The Divine Hierarchy: Popular Hinduism in Central India (1975).