Holy Holi

Mumbai was a breath of fresh air for us. The city was a welcome addition to our travel schedule. We had initially wanted to pass over Mumbai, but in the end, we are glad we went. The streets were wide and less crowded, travelers were, at times, out numbering the Indians in pedestrian traffic. There was a breath of modernity all over; the city was littered with espresso cafes, pumping bars and sheik restaurants. With Kolkata, the poverty and in -your-face- atmosphere was overwhelming at times. Yet, Mumbai had a different kind of in-your-face aspect; it seemed strange to see beggars outside these type of shops. It seemed out of place. The largest slum in Asia is in Mumbai, and for a passerby in the city, like us, you would not have even suspected it.
As we rolled into Mumbai, I had time to look out the window- Sam, as you know, did not- and there were these tin, burnt out cubes of houses littered all over, but nothing like what I had expected. Sam and I really enjoyed the city and we walked a vast distance. During our time the celebration of Holi was happening. This festival is a celebration of colors and Indians and travelers alike go absolutely crazy over this holiday. People buy pink, green, red, blue paint and mix it with water and the city turns into a colorful water fight. Kids, teenagers, old people like mutants from a nuclear explosion gone wrong. Even now, four days later, people still have spattering of paint in their hair, clothes and sometimes teeth. Luckily Sam and I avoided too much trouble- I got water bombed and my face was slapped with silver- in a holi festive way- by an insolent little street kid. All over travelers delved into the spirit and for most of the day, we passed by walking rainbows or Indian Hulks.
Indian is a spiritual place and the people who I talked to always mention your karma in life. This is a more Buddhist cog, but it has been incorporated into Hindu and practiced in everyday thinking. By avoiding the paint, I believe we angered some mystical force and were bound for some bad Karma surrounding Holi.
On the recommendation of a fellow traveler, we took a private car out of Udaipur to go see the largest- and very impregnable with a wall 36kms in circumfrence- fort in India: Kumblagarh fort. Along the trip we would also see, Ranakpur the oldest and largest Jain temple in India. All exciting sights and to get there we would take another windy road to these impressive Indian monuments. Along with Sam and I, we conscripted a 22 year old Brit, who has been in India for two months. He is a garrulous bloke and shoots the shit more than I. He is not afraid to mix it up with the "locals."
So we set out, the four of us- the driver, Reis, a man who loved stuffing his face with these packets of something and always spoke with clenched teeth so to avoid spilling the contents of his mouth. I found a person who is more frustrating to talk to than me because all of his words ran together in one monsylabic soliloquy.
As we drove through the barren, sun scorched land- there has been a massive drought here - the road turned from highway to country road again. The countryside is speckled with these blackened trees that to the passing eye appear ready to wither, yet at the very tops springs brilliant fire red flowers. All over, whether in clumps or singular, these trees seem incongruous to the harsh countryside around it. A few minutes into our trip in the countryside were halted by a large procession of women- adorned in colorful sarees, paint and drums. They had blocked the road with numerous stones and rocks and demanded money. Singing songs, the eldest member struck out her weathered, dry hand and gave a wicked impish smile. We had to fork over money- 10 rps- or suffer terrible consequences: the car would be covered in paint (as we would learn later on, there were more serious consequences if a tribute was not received.)
We laughed at the situation and happily handed over money. These village people were still celebrating Holi, and as tradition, demanded money for the holiday to every vehicle that had the misfortune of traveling that day. We ran into a few more scattered "check points." Each time our driver, sighing in frustration as approached, then once at the cusp of the stone line, bolting out of the car to negotiate price, and even sometimes, just toss aside the rocks away. During the negoiation process, he was a raging bull. He maintained a steady fury of frustration; however once returning to the car, he languidly looked over at me laughing and smiling.
Most of the time, the roadblocks were manned by small children to which a well placed "haaaa" and menacing grunt would send them flying back to the safety of the hillside, but other times, with older boys, men and women the situation was more serious. Older boys would be the ringleader falnked by his younger painted compatriots and would not budge until the money was given to them. Also places with numerous women were not to be trifled with at all. I learned the hard way as this old woman cackling and smiling malicious- either caught up in the spirit of holi or just plain crazy- threw a sprinkling of pink paint at me. We would have to give them tribute or they, without hesitation, break a window. We must of stopped about 20 times along the road. What should have been two hours turned into three and 1/2. As I said most of the roadblocks were defended by these neon pink, green and blue children which were more than happy to smile and say hello. A lot of them pressed their faces against the glass and we became subjects of some rolling zoo or medical experiment. Richard, the Brit, would step outside to take pictures or roll down the window to speak to the kids. This would prove to be the undoing as later, we were stopped outside this small village. With the window down on the right side of the car, Richard was engaged in small talk. As our driver bartered, pleaded and rebuked the prices, kids began to cover the car with dirt, water and paint; dirt that probably 6/10s cow patties and water that was probably 7/10 cow water. Just before leaving, this little devil of a child snuck behind the car and "WHOOOSH" got a bucket of this earthly concoction all over Richard and Sam. We took it in stride, but the driver was not too pleased.
By the time we moved from the fort to the temple, we had formed a caravan of other travelers to combat the other check points. This was a sight to see. Once at a checkpoint, out stepped three drivers and five large foreign guys. It was a motley phalanx with the command to clear the road. After the fifth stop to the temple, one traveler remarked, "the hilarity of this passed about three hours ago." As we moved rocks, the drivers spent time trying to chase the children.
It went on for a little more, but with the big groups, we were able to pass through without much deterrence.
It was a great day, even with the checkpoints, because we got to see the villagers- up close, neon and personal.
Next time I am just going for gold- or is it pink or green- and just getting Holi-ed out to avoid any bad karma.