After first call, I have to call them two times more. Finally after 30 minutes they are on bed after saying good night to their parents. Bedtime prayers done, now comes story time. 3 pairs of eyes and six hands folded silently imploring and I understand what they want. Nothing serious I tell them and a collective yayyy shout comes, and I know their parents must be rolling their eyes in other room 🤣. What a fun.
OK. I say and start off. Remember I told you all of the L or Z shape trenches which were dug up in our backyard during war with Pakistan in 1965 and 1971 ? Well once war over they became dysfunctional. My parents started using them as compost pit, but we children had better idea.
After 1971 war in December when Holi festival came in March the trench was half filled with kitchen and garden waste. In the morning of Holi day we friends brought different water colors of Holi, mixed them up and sprinkled that brownish looking color powder on the rotting garbage and filled it with water, covered it with mixture of grass and soil. It looked like a bald patch of land. Nothing suspicious, elders thought we are playing with colors. Inside the pit was slushy, dark colored smelly mushy mass.
People started arriving by 10.30 am to wish happy Holi. Front garden was ladies domain, where they applied colored tilak in very civil manner and wished each other, followed by partaking of gujiya, Gulabjamun, Aloo gutuk and piping hot tea. But the backyard was reserved for children and gentlemen, who were racous, riotous and rough in playing Holi. In the garb of serving sweets and splashing colors on uncles, we made sure they shifted towards the cleverly covered trench.
One step on the edge and plop plop plop four or five uncles fell in the ditch. They heaved themselves up overed in dark colored slush,while all of us children were laughing and shouting बुरा ना मानो होली है।
All boys ran away laughing and shouting Holi Hai ji Holi hai, I was, the only girl in group, unsure of what to do now.
I was, asked to clean the slush off from uncles by garden hose, all the time enduring the harsh gaze of my father.
Needless to say after bath the red color on my and my brother's cheeks and bums was of Holi splashes or slap thrashes no one could make out except us. It hurt a lot, yet the prank was a great fun and worth the beating we both got.
I love Holi festival (for the colors you dumbos not for the memory of the beating in 1972 Holi day🤣🤣)
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