Holi, Hammering, Hair and Happiness!

Holidays are on, and it was Holi yesterday. I only got up at eleven, as is the norm but Big B got me ready quickly and we went around the township looking for fellow revellers. Unfortunately, there were none to be found. The whole township was deserted- maybe because it was exam time (which didn’t seem the most obvious reason straightaway. Sad...), and also because undergraduates like us were few and far between. Anyhow, he wouldn’t let go and with his favourite tactic- shock and awe- Big B smeared purple gulal all over my face and “Holi hai!” it was. It was a quiet Holi at home, with a little bit of colour smeared on everyone, and some amazing sweets and food. Ma, Pa and Big B all got their messages and phone calls to reply to, leaving me and my almost-unknown local phone number feeling left out. The STD phone was too busy to be used and I only replied to the solitary SMS I happened to get on my new number- with an M2G original, of course!

 

This was in great contrast to the Holi I’d celebrated in the insti a day before leaving for home. Talk of chalk and cheese! That revelry went on past two hours, and included many songs and dances, permanent colours of various hues, shouts and screams, but most importantly, it had the element of forced wardrobe malfunctions, or in simpler words, clothes being torn off! My famous salmon short kurta was one of the first victims, and 3^rd year Meta was at its perverse best, going down and dirty to the knickers when they ran out of shirts and vests to rip off. The best part was that after all this, there was a fashion show, with all participants strutting whatever stuff was left! And, as the cherry on the cake, there was a special mention for the best costume! Sushi finished a close second in that one, for his Jenna Jameson-type ensemble. I wonder if it was the Reptile’s Superman-in-white-diapers costume that finished first, or if Jaipur’s Is-it-there-or-is-it-not apron won it. The final group photo session was memorable, too. I still seriously wonder how the Reptile made it back to Azad from Ravindra in that garb!

 

The original Holi at home, although a stark contrast to the one described above, was fun all the same- both being my first Holi celebrations after three or four years. I also had the pleasure of watching India pummel the Kiwis into submission yesterday. It was after quite a long while that I sat down to watch an entire innings, and it was worth it! Viru was at his blazing best, scoring the fastest ODI hundred by an Indian, and reigniting that favourite dream topic of cricket-lovers: Who’ll score the first double hundred in ODIs? (A little-known fact is that Belinda Clark, an Australian batswoman, has already done that in women’s cricket) Brendon McCullum, one of my contenders, believes it’s going to be one of Chris ‘Gale Force’ Gayle, Virender ‘Blitzkrieg’ Sehwag or Sachin ‘God’ Tendulkar. Oh, God. One of my biggest regrets this year (already) is missing him score that glorious 163 last week. The aforementioned Kiwi thought that if it weren’t for that stomach injury, nothing would’ve stopped him from that impending double hundred. What could have been! And I missed it all!

 

Although AP’s is an extreme case, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar (to be henceforth referred to as God, in this post) has shaped many a childhood in our generation. The sheer number of kids growing up in India, holding that MRF bat in the store and saying “Main Sachin banunga” (I’ll be the next Sachin) is probably greater than Australia’s entire population. It saddens me to think, that when he retires, or maybe now already, children growing up now don’t have an idol like him. MSD is OK, but God is a level above. I still remember 1998, that tournament in Sharjah. Tony Greig’s excited voice was breaking as Sachin smashed boundary after boundary off the hapless Aussies. Then came those two strokes that’ll forever remain etched in my memory- those two straight sixes off Steve Waugh and Michael Kasprowicz. That wasn’t my first cricket match, or the first time I saw God, but I knew my life was never going to be the same. The next generations are never going to have that. Forget that- even gully cricket’s now losing its grip. Tazos, cards, tops and other random Jap imports seem to be more popular. Sigh...

 

After the end of the match, lunch followed, and a short nap on the sofa later, Big B and I headed off to the barber’s. It’d been quite a while since I’d been to the barbershop in the township. Big B’s turn was obviously first and I sheepishly forked around the place. The comfortable bouncy couch had been replaced by a solemn stone bench, with no backrest. There weren’t random Telugu newspapers or magazines to gawk at, either. The little 12-inch TV wasn’t there to be seen, too. That left only one form of entertainment- the Infinite Mirror Paradigm. Oh, boy! Every fortnight on Sundays, we’d be over at the barber’s staring away at the mirrors when not arguing over whose turn it was. Indian barbers are freakin’ geniuses. I wonder whose idea it was to implement this marvel! One can stare at it for hours, or however long it takes for three haircuts before yours. One image in another in another in another; front-view, back-view, front-view again, and it never ends! Compare this to those men’s salons with one just one mirror in front, with that sad three-hundred-rupee-paying face looking back at you, forlorn. I don’t give two hoots for fancy haircuts sometimes, when I hear the sweet sound of fifteen rupees being asked for. With the infinite mirror entertainment program coming in for free, it couldn’t be a better bargain! Yeah, but I’d like it if the stupid radio was switched off. Random Haddu love problems aren’t great to listen to in conjunction with those scissor snips.

 

The icing on the sundae was when we returned back to the city, and headed off for ice-cream after dinner. Yup, same place as before. I had Black Forest Fantasy this time. Dad loved his All Litchis so much, that he went on and on about how wonderful Jack Frost is, and so pleased he was, he went over for another- a Choco Chips cone, this time. Oh, did I forget? As ironical as it is, I love this wonderful ice-cream shop’s tagline: Happiness. Served Chilled.

 

P.S. - I still have a size 6 Reebok cricket bat, which we still use whenever we get in the mood for cricket. Beta, MRF waale to khatam ho gaye. Sachin nahi to Azhar ke bat se kaam chala lo! (We’re out of MRF bats, son. Try Azhar’s bat if you can’t get Sachin’s!)

 

P.P.S. - I’m reading Ruskin Bond, right now, and he is a joy to read!