Monday, March 16, 2009


I confess, I have never been too fond of holi. Yeah, it was great fun as a kid, but then somehow it turned out to be one of those things you tend to grow out of. So I rarely play it, and every year for the past 5-6 years, I've found some excuse or the other to avoid playing it. Not so this year.

There's this thing about campus. Unless you are a real recluse and a people-hater, there's little chance of escaping from celebrations here.If you don't turn up on your own, chances are that a nice little gang of boisterous fellas will turn up at your door, and haul you off to wherever the celebrations are happening. Which is what happened a few days ago on holi. There was I, sitting quietly in my room, hoping that they would somehow miss my absence, and thanking god for sparing me the trouble of 'uncolouring' myself post the festivities, and tending towards a nice little afternoon siesta, when there was a loud banging on my door. Oh dear. Within minutes, they'd barged in (I could have technically kept them out by refusing to open the door, of course, but the ruckus they would have created would not quite have been worth it) and after much bargaining, I managed to throw them out and change into something which I afford to lose.

This proved to be a rather sensible thing to do, for the moment I went outside again, they promptly pulled at my tee, and tore the whole thing apart. Great.

I was hauled to the center of celebrations, where the rest of the revellers fell upon me with glee (they were bored of recolouring the already coloured souls, and were looking around desperately for somebody new). I was thrown into a tank full of purple water, and dunked in a couple of times for good measure. Then, I was promptly purpled, from head to tow.

Surprisingly, I liked it. It was a tad too violent for my taste, but it was a load of fun. Campus activities are like that. They usually tend to be rather on the violent side, but still a whole lot of fun. Unfortunately, at that time, I had missed one crucial point - how tough it would be to get rid of the colour. First off myself, and then off my poor mac keyboard, which I had used without my fingers being completely decoloured.

So back I came to my room, and started the process. The next 3 hours went in a crazy bout of scrubbing and scrubbing and more scrubbing. All that managed to do was remove a wee bit of the colour. So then, more scrubbing. All sorts of ideas were being floated on the internal messenger to get rid of the colour, some of them normal, some a bit whackly, some outright bizzare, and a few, plain scary.

Finally, after 4 baths, trying body wash, hand wash, bar soap, shampoo, and moisturizer+cotton swabs, I finally managed to look like a shade of my previous self. Then, it was the turn of my mac. The poor thing had to ensure a scrubbing off a lifetime, during which, since I had forgotten to switch it off, I ended up renaming a whole lot of files. So my mac ended up being christened as 'mjadjad7777fffff' for a few days. Which rather intrigued me when I first noticed it, and puzzled me to no end. Thankfully, and hopefully, that was all.What I had missed, however, and which I realized to my chagrin when I got a few weird looks in the city mall the next day, was that I had completely forgotten to scrub my toenails, with the result that I must have been quite a sight with bright purple toenails. Now, Kozhikode isn't as happening a city as Pune or Mumbai, but I doubt it would be that accommodating. Sigh. Painted toenails. Bright purple. Aaaargh! As if getting a girl was not tough enough in the first place!

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