Holi in Rishikesh—Celebrating All as One

We sat in our cars looking out, the once busy streets leading to Rishikesh now quiet—almost deserted. Every shop had its shutters down and the traffic was non-existent. ‘Where is everyone?’ we wondered. But as we got closer and closer to the heart of the city—Laxman jhula—we could hear the faint sound of drums thumping through crackling speakers.I suddenly spotted one or two people covered in color, some in strange masks, and I was wondering what was going on. I looked at the driver who already knew what I was going to ask. He said, ‘Aaj Holi hai. Sab dukkan bandh hai. Hum appko parking me choddenge. Agge bohut zyaada bheed hogi’ (Today is Holi. All the shops are closed. I will drop you at the parking lot as there will be too much crowd ahead.)I said okay and as soon as we reached the parking lot, my 20 yoga students and I jumped out of the car. The sound of the drums got louder, and the air suddenly felt festive. I looked down and the black tarmac of the parking lot was a colourful canvas. I knew we were close to the magic..We walked across the bridge and as we came to the other side, we noticed a sea of bodies jumping into the air rhythmically to the beat of the drum. Arms stretched, fingers pointed skywards, feet pounding the ground, the music was in them! As I took my camera out to take a video of this moment, a jet of red water came flying at me against the bright blue of the sky, seemingly suspended for a moment above the crowd before crashing down on me and my students, amidst screams and whoops of joy.Holi had begun and we were in the heart of the celebration. Having lived my life in Chennai, in South India, I had never watched an entire city celebrate a festival until then. Small pockets, maybe, but never everyone. Holi in Rishikesh is an explosion of colour and joy. No matter your age, your skin colour, your caste, creed or working background—everyone played Holi.As I took two steps, then ‘swoosh!’ Another bucket of green water came flying at me from the skies. I wiped my eyes and looked up to see an old grandma laughing and filling her next bucket to throw at me—the joy, the audacity, the playfulness and the want to take revenge but the lack of ammunition all came crashing at me in that moment..I laughed and ran ahead, only to get pummelled in powders of various colours. My once-clean face was now streaked in colour beyond recognition. It was at this time, I decided to let go of all inhibition and play Holi with abandon. As I walked from street to street, dancing, chanting, throwing colours and getting covered in every colour, I could only think of one thing—if joy was alive, this would be its expression. It wasn’t even 11 am and yet, people were dancing on the streets with the shameless jubilation that normally comes only with alcohol or drugs in most countries in the world.This is Bharat! And we were in the holy city of Rishikesh—a dry city. Joy did not have to be induced through an external substance, it was something you could feel in the air. Almost every single person I met was sober, and filled with a joy so fierce it was palpable. And overwhelming..Luckily every time it got too much, the locals were welcoming and provided us with plastic bags for our heads and electronic items, water to drink and colours to throw back. This was Holi, a festival celebrating the triumph of good over evil, as well as the end of winter and the arrival of spring. There was no place for differences. The throwing of colours comes from a legend about the blue-skinned god Krishna and his love for fair-skinned Radha. Krishna despaired that his blue skin would stop Radha loving him, so his mother told him to colour her face using jets of water. He did, making them equals, and the pair became a couple.Locals and tourists alike spent the entire morning in Rishikesh soaking each other with coloured water—attacking with water pistols, balloons, buckets, jets, and spray cans—and dousing one another with coloured powders. Why? So, we were all the same—we were no longer divided by the colour of our skin, the stories of our past, our mistakes—we were here, all as one.