Holi: A Short Story by Raghavji Madhad

Hariyo pushed away the dirty mattress and got up. He glanced with hungry eyes with at the chulha. It had not been lighted. His gaze slid to the maningas which had lain cold for a long time and he quickly averted his eyes.

On a ramshackle rope-cot his mother lay asleep.
Hariyo was alarmed at the sight of his mother sleeping.  Never before had he seen her asleep at this time.

Leaving the door ajar,  Hariyo walked out into the street. The full moon of phagan was up in the sky with all  its splendor. There was a thin must which covered the earth like the veil over a young maid’s head. The pleasant chill of winter came walking on tip toes like a coy bride.

Hariyo traced his steps towards the padar. He could not afford to be late now he was face to face with the hour he had been awaiting since morning.

But when the moment to untie the knot of his resolution arrived, a sudden dread seized him. What if somebody else turns out to be smarter than him.  Hariyo increased his pace, but not  before glancing up at the path towards his left. There  was group of people from the vas coming down the  path. They were to light their holi well away from the centre of the village.

At the sight of his people Hariyo felt a pang in his heart. It was as if he was leaving home to embark on a journey to a strange land but he had no alternative.

Though he was walking at running speed the aroma of the delicacies being cooked in the upper caste homes wafted into his nostrils enticingly. Hariyo slowed down, took a long breath and drew in the aroma deeply.

Hariyo had eaten nothing since morning.  He had brought some stale khichdi from the gam  in the morning for his  mother. But she was too weak   even to   eat and Hariyao was able to appease his hunger a little with it. That and a glass of water was all he had taken by a way of food during the day. Now in the evening the chulha had not even been lighted.

Hariyo’s mother had not been able to get up from bed the whole the day. Death!  The word suddenly pounced on Hariyo. Perhaps the shadow of death had already fallen on his mother…..

Hariyo reached the padar.

A heap of twigs and dung cakes piled up in mound made the holi. Around it were half a dozen children in their birthday suits playing chananda. Hariyo felt an irresistible desire to join them. If it was   the holi in his own vas,  Hariyo would have leaped gleefully into the fray. But not here.

When he hovered around the holi, he had something else in his mind. He made sure the holi had not been lighted. This quietened his agitation considerably. He walked up to the cattle pen a few feet away and sat on its edge.

Soon the drummer arrived. He held the stick upside down and beat hard on the drum for a while. This done, he played a variety of familiar tals on it.

The beat of the drum resounded in every corner of the village the whole village flocked to the padar. The rituals were about to begin.

The padar which was deserted a few minutes ago now bustled with the multitude of villagers.  Girls in their teens broke into an amatory dance. A lot of gigging and teasing followed. Uninhibited, they sang the phag in a chorus.

Soon the rising rhythms of the drum and the bitter sweet melodies of the phag filled the air. The tumult rose up to its crescendo. Nothing else could be heard over its din.

Soon the excitement took possession of   Hariyo . He began to sway to the rhythms of the drum, tapping his feet on the ground, lurching back and forth. He lost himself in the crowd, boldly venturing into the midst of the girls, humming  Kathiawadi dohas trying to catch the eyes of the more attractive belles.

ariyo. He HaariHH  O, Ma … Hariyo froze as is an ant had bitten him on his legs. Once not long ago he had displayed the same boldness throwing caution to the winds in the company of Maniyo, a relative of his. But he had not been able to get away with it. A sound thrashing was what he got for his enterprise. 

Hariyo felt an excruciating pain through him.

Was his determined resolution slipping through his mind. Hariyo asked himself.

To root out his indecisiveness Hariyo walked briskly towards  the holi. The restless bullocks tied to other carts which had brought  a section of the crowd of the padar were tugging at their reins. A few dandies sticks in hand carrying turbans filled with salt on their shoulders,  were roaming around aimlessly.

The hour to light the holi arrived.

Hariyo’s anxiety and impatience were crucifying him. He feared the worst just when he thought he was within reach of …

But a booming voice reassured him.

“Ela, light it somebody…   the hour has come.”

“Ah delaying it would be …”,  the young men said in a chorus. But who would light the holi? The question vexed everybody.  Alter a few uneasy moments, the offers began to come, as they did every year.

“Ela , a five from me!”

Hariyo sharpened his ears to listen. Yes, the bid was on his heart beat a double speed. ’

“ I am game for another two.”

The amount swelled and Hariyo became more and more uneasy.

“Ten rupees in cash!”

Still nobody ventured to light the holi.

There was a terrifying clamour  in Hariyo’s heart. He had vowed to light the holi in the morning but when it was touch and go, he  was vacillating.

No, I won’t burn Holima. The curse will be upon me.  Hariyo was on the verge of going back on his resolution.

As soon as he uttered the words Holima , the picture of his own mother lying on the cot too weak to get up rushed into his mind.  Her drained face loomed up before his eyes today.   She had looked more stricken than ever. She had tossed and turned in bed for a long time, spasms of pain rocking her body incessantly. After a lot of persuasion a doctor had agreed to come to the vas but he would not give any medicine free.  Tormented by the yet undiagnosed disease, his mother lay convulsing in bed for a long time then her body became still. Hariyo had watched everything helplessly.

‘Ela!  Come on take the whole of twenty rupees!’ A chorus of voices shouted. The enticing red note dangled before Hariyo’s eyes. Two rupees was the largest amount Hariayo  had ever earned  in his life that was for taking out somebody s cattle to graze in the fields the whole day. The curse will fall upon me if I light holima..That is why none from the gam are lighting it…Hariyo oscillated between desperation and fear. It was a struggle between holima and his real, living ‘ma’.

I’ll give ten rupees to the doctor. With the other ten I’ll buy myself a dress. The doctor will give injections to me…she will be all right in no time…I will live like a prince. Hariyo’s mind roved.

But the curse of holima.. Hariyo trembled. But suddenly, another Hariyo was born inside him.

Look, Hariyo, you fool. in the morning you would have cut throats to get a chance to light the holi. What has happened to you now? Hariyo heard the other Hariyo reproaching him.

What have you got to do with ‘curse’ and ‘sin’? You are hungry most of the time. And here you go jabbering about…

Tears   came into Hariyo’s eyes. He reached for the chal of his kameez to wipe his eyes. His hands rubbed against his belly instead. The fact that his kameez had no chal had gone clean out of his mind.

“Gimmie, I’ll light it…” Hariyo extended his hand.

“Hey, you scavenger, what are you doing here?” One of the men raised his hand to hit Hariyo.

“Lay off! Who else do you think will light this?”, another man in the crowd snapped at him.

The box of matches was passed on to Hariyo. Hariyo lighted the holi.

Clutching the twenty rupee note, Hariyo ran as if he had grown wings. Blood rushed into Hariyo’s face as he leaped into the verandah with the same legs which were too weak to support him a few moments ago.

“Ma, ma. I have brought money…” Hariyo paused for breath.

His mother lay still with her eyes closed.

Hariyo tugged at the blanket which covered his mother. It was dark inside the hut and he could not see her face clearly.

“Ma, ma..Look at me…” Hariyo shook her violently. When he turned her face towards him, her head dropped limply. Hariyo was horror-stricken.

“Ma…” Hariyo’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He felt his head swimming. “I lighted holima. I sinned, and my ma…”  He raved, as he collapsed all in a heap on the floor.

Notes:

 maninas = iron nails driven into the chulha on which vessels are placed for cooking.

 padar = a strip of common ground, a small maidan.

vas= the colony of dalits, as distinct from gam or the village proper.

phag = a rustic, ribald song ( from phagan, a month in the Vikram era calender.)

The lighting of the holi bonfire was an inauspicious, but necessary ritual which dalits like Hariyo were enticed to perform.