I remember, my last Holi, when I was ousted from my paternal home, a very warm and caring colleague decided to give me refuge somehow.
It was for the first time in my life when I played Holi with colours. It was for the first time in my life when I needn't toe my head in oversized Kurtas and when someone from the cherish extended family member would forcely sneak in and drench me in the coloured water of Holi. It was for the first time when I needn't to stay inside my house and just see others skylarking from my window and reveal myself oy when my turn comes. It was for the first time when I needn't to follow the fraternity as dressing up according to them. It was for the first time when I played Holi and ran away in kurta-pyjama and a pair of slippers at my legs. It was for the first time when I didn't fear being caught and actually I wasn't.
Post session of the Holi arrived with Bhaang and loud music, I recklessly snatched my friend's mom's dupatta and draped it around the upper part of my body to complete the refugee look. My friend took a photo of mine in my terribly looking attire. I shared the picture to you giving you a hint to make changes.
Instead, you counted the number of times my dupatta was draped recklessly around my chest blessing me by swinging over my head. You told me how you loved the dupatta doing my face that was drenched in the mixture of colours. You told me how nice I looked with, when my eyes piercing yours from that well known face smiling at you. I loved you more in that condition.
For months later, when I'm simple and colourless, it dawns on me that you loved a boy who was draped in the dupatta which was not actually his, of calm lacking the sequin made of confrontation. I showed my true feelings as well as colours. Expecting same as from you.
That Holi, I was ousted from two patriarchal homes. Finally I said, "Dear, one was for me, the other one was for you."
#Holi#my first Holi #colours#yq baba #yq didi