Recently, I had the opportunity to take part in Holi, the
festival of color. For those unfamiliar:
http://www.religionfacts.com/hinduism/holidays/holi
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holi
Going in, I was not sure what to expect; I arrived late, and
waited on the outskirts to observe what I could before getting involved. From a
distance, it was intimidating. Large crowds of people watching, another crowd
participating before the live bands that played, and the dancers that
performed.
I’ve been to places before- ‘welcoming’ places that were
not, in fact, welcoming. Doors thrown wide open, only to have wary eyes follow
newcomers and an absence of regulars to engage them willingly. What then, would
one expect from a gathering where everyone was a stranger?
I approached the center and joined in the festivities. Holi
is referred to as the festival of color (among other things) because of the
pelting and spreading of various colors of powder over participants. This alone
is something many might see as a breach of dignified behavior, as it involves
the minimization of personal space, and the courtesy of avoiding physical
contact- to perform such actions in any other context with strangers, quite
frankly, is rude.
As soon as I had moved within the color zone, people began
tossing powder on me. Minutes in, I had been colored and recolored; layers of
color that covered other layers- brilliant pinks and greens and oranges. At some point between bands, a gentleman came
on to explain more about the festival. He spoke of people coming together, of
celebration and giving thanks- of ignoring differences. He mentioned something
about penetrating color(race) as an example, and it resonated with me. We as
people assign ourselves and others into groups based on color(race) or
appearance, or mannerism, or other indicators. The color throw, which had left
everyone covered in crazy color combinations, had effectively eliminated any
difference in hue, shade, and (by
appearances)race- we all looked more or less the same, covered in various
patterns of the same wildly clashing colors.
To me, it suggested that the taking away of arbitrary
differences led to an increased togetherness, a unity, an acceptance. Sure, one
might argue that it was acceptance only because we were a group, either in our
multicolor ‘skin’, or as people who would attend such an event in the first
place.
I would argue that it was not a matter of bringing
like-minded people together so much as penetrating the trivial differences
erected by circumstance or choice. I would argue that it is about illuminating
the commonality that is already there, that has always been there since the
birth of mankind. Perhaps then, we were a group of people representing the true
desires and feeling and yearning of humanity(enjoying life, having fun,
belonging), without all the pretense.
On that day, I held hands with people I didn’t know. I
danced with complete strangers. I hugged people I haven’t met- during, nor
after. Perhaps I’ll never see them again.
I don’t know anything about anybody- not their names, nor where they
were from, what they did for work or leisure, which God they believed in, who
they loved. I knew nothing of those present aside from the fact that for some
reason, on that particular day, they happened to find themselves at the same
festival. And they accepted me. And I accepted them.
This is the kind of world we can live in.
