Pink hair, pink fingernails, pink bra

Published in the December 2006 issue of Good Taste magazine:

“Don’t go out,” said the receptionist. “It’s dangerous.”

But I want to experience Holi. So, diving behind pillars and vehicles I plunge into the fracas. Roads filled with scooters carrying multiple passengers, each one having a different colour to offer.

At a junction in the Pink City, three colourful men sit under trees while pink-splotched cows munch cardboard. Turbans and sari’s march past, even the pink buildings appear to glow brighter. A group of musicians materialise, play and dance, ignoring the symphony of horns. A car pulls up spewing a family who shower each other in a rainbow cloud, merging with smog, laughing and merry-that’s what Holi is all about–colour, merriment and family.

After Diwali, Holi is the second-most important festival and is held at full moon in February or March, a riotous celebration of the coming of spring.

I almost make it to the hotel when a group of young men approach. Suddenly, realising my vulnerability, I dig into a bag of silky pink powder creating a cloudy blur, becoming part of Holi. My adversary places seed-like flecks in my hair, pink streaks on my cheeks and throws powder down my shirt.

The men follow to make more mischief but I worry about my brand new camera.

“Jump on.” A man on a scooter rides between the men and me. I hop on.

“Why did I do that?” I think to myself as we speed away.

“Where you want to go?”

“The hotel,” giving him the name, but he doesn’t know it.

We talk and he seems to be a nice guy and offers to show me the Pink City. It’s early and there is nothing else to do. The shops are closed, the hotel empty and it doesn’t have satellite TV.

I nod agreement and off we go, my mind whirling with images including slavery, drugs police and newspapers.

Rajasthan is the largest of 29 states and situated in the northwest, sharing a border with Pakistan. It may be the driest state but what it lacks in scenery it more than makes up for with festivals, food and saris and it’s no wonder that it’s known as India’s most colourful state. Jaipur (City of Victory) is the capital of Rajasthan and known as the Pink City because it was dressed in pink to welcome the Prince of Wales in 1876.

The hallmark of the Pink City is the five-storey façade of finely carved sandstone architecture of Hawa Mahal or Palace of Winds, built in 1799. The elaborate palace comprises 365 balconies and windows with where royal ladies were able to watch unobserved while festive processions went by, possibly even Holi.

Passing beneath a gate and shimmering in the distance, the water palace of Jah Mahal, the summer resort of the royal family, mirrored in Maota Lake.

We climb the Aravalli Hills to Amber Fort, abandoned by Maharajah Jai Singh in 1727 when he relocated to Jaipur. Elephants carry wide-eyed tourists steeply pass Mughal gardens and sweeping vistas to the carved Elephant Gate into passageways and courtyards suffused with rose and sandalwood perfumed breeze. In the Hall of Mirrors I imagine concubines peeping through latticed screens in days gone by.

The previous night the same elephants carrying tourists in the stifling heat, took part in the annual Elephant Festival in Chaugan Stadium, Jaipur. The origin of the festival goes back to a time when elephants formed an important part of the royal paraphernalia and were the main attraction at royal processions, very often regally decorated.

The procession started late as the stadium continued to fill with locals, tourists and far too many press photographers. At last the elephants entered, greeting us with dazzling colour and head-spinning scenes of a bygone age, accompanied by turbaned mahouts (owners). The mahouts go to town decorating the pachyderms with painted designs, jhools (saddle cloths) and heavy jewellery, including anklets above pink-painted toes. What a festive sight, not only elephants but also camels, horses, jugglers, folk dancers, a kaleidoscopic extravaganza.

Next came a tug-of-war between elephant Bulbul and 17 tourists. No prize for guessing who won! This was followed by a comical polo match as the elephants chased a beach ball in what was once the place where the royalty of Jaipur played the game.

Next, four tourists enjoyed Holi on the backs of two elephants, throwing fug (coloured powder) over opponents and anyone else to get in the way. With glee we watched them aim for the journalists, clouds of suspended dazzling powder. The grand finale was a firework display, my heart aching for the elephants.

Afterwards and on the way to the hotel, we saw fires next to roadside stalls selling sachets of powder for Holi. Children who celebrate their first Holi must circumnavigate a bonfire and seek the blessings of gods. Similarly, couples celebrating their first Holi circle the bonfire seven times-the seventh with the bride being carried by the groom-accompanied by much leg pulling.

Descending to the Pink City, my guide invites me to join his family in celebrating Holi. Travelling further and further from town, my heart beats faster.

“Is it far?”

“No, we’re almost there.”

What feels like an hour but we stop in front of a gate in a well-to-do suburb. Children swarm in a blur of colours.

“Nooo,” lifting my arm in a pathetic gesture.

They smear my face as my rescuer explains that this is the customary Holi welcome. We sit in the garden, a large sunny lawn overhung with trees. Sweetmeats and a jug of icy water are brought as we try to communicate. The children lose interest and play, spraying each other from water guns and throwing packets of powder against a wall and each other.

They take me up flights of steps and a ladder onto the roof where they point out landmarks that I’ve seen up close.

Safely back at the hotel and after trying soap, shampoo and even cleaner, I learn that water and ‘seeds’ leave an indelible dye, durable for days. Over a well earned glass of wine I contemplate how to explain my pink nails, pink scalp and pink breasts when I arrive home.

The author travelled as a guest of India Tourism. For more information contact goito@global.co.za

Getting there:

Fly to Delhi from where you can take one of the daily flights on Jet Airways to Jaipur.

For more info log onto www.rajasthantourism.gov .in

Festival of Holi

The festival of Holi is closely related to Lord Krishna who in the prime of his youth is idealised as a lover. It’s the spirit of his light-hearted, mischievous passion for courtship that heralds the light, warm, sunny days of spring and it was Krishna who started the tradition of first applying colour on Radha.

Legend goes that Bhakt Prahlad-a young prince and son of Hiranyakashyapu from the bloodline of demons-fought those of faith, abhorring the concepts of god and good. Since the age of four, Prahad held a staunch faith in God. Hiranyakashyapu was disappointed with this so he punished Prahad in order to change him, but this only made his faith stronger. Finally his father devised a plan and placed Prahad on the lap of his aunt Holika, who had the power of self-combustion. Holika was burnt to ashes but Prahad was untouched. This was taken to be the victory of good over evil and is celebrated with bonfires on the night before Holi. And as for Hiranyakashyapu, well, he was slain by Narsimha, the half man, half lion incarnation of Vishnu.

Holi is celebrated in spring, the season of love. The festival seems to acknowledge and greet this with open arms with amorous songs, music, plays and dances, all with devotional and religious fervour, role reversal for men and women, throwing coloured water and sprinkling coloured powder. Colours are said to loosen inhibitions of young and old alike as they celebrate the emergence of spring which brings fresh hope, signifying a new turn in the sequence and a spirit of renewal after cold winter months.

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Elephants in Indian culture

Elephants are an important part of the culture and almost a symbol of India. Apart from being used as fighting machines during war, they are a powerful religious symbol signifying wisdom and patience. Before beginning any auspicious task or religious ceremony, Hindus pray to the elephant headed God, Lord Ganesh.