The Holika was burnt with the requisite rituals in both the houses and the coming of the new season was announced. Early morning and during the day the ‘koel’ is heard frequently - a sign of summer coming on. A signal too of the times gone by and the numerous Holi’s played and enjoyed at different locations and cities and environs.

By far the most memorable will always be those from the early days. Days spent with nostalgia of our growing up in Allahabad in Uttar Pradesh. For some reason Holi has always been associated strongly as a North Indian festival, though it has always been universally acknowledged and patronised.

In UP they start playing much before the due date. In fact so infectious has this festival and the use of color become that now any joyous occasion anywhere is symbolized by the abundant use of the dry Holi color.

Pass an examination, win an election, partake in religious procession and it is time for ‘gulal’ and colored faces and body. A wonderful expression of joy and excitement and happiness. To touch and embrace others and to color their lives with the joys of our own. Though I must admit the practice of touching others at the time of birthday celebrations by generously rubbing ‘the’ cake all over the face of the ‘honoured’ person is becoming.. well not becoming..

Small towns have a character of their own. Our own little small town Allahabad was also unique. Days before the festival the ‘pichkari’ that had been safely stored away from the previous years’ Holi would be brought out and tested and repaired for the new day. A day before, the ‘teasu’ flower would be put into large barrels of water to soak overnight. In the morning a strong and distinct saffron color would be formed and that is what would be used to throw at each other. Unlike the silver and gold acrylic paints stuffed in water balloons of today’s times and the predominance of the color black. The special sweet meats made for the occasion were a delight. Great folk songs that signified the day would be sung and recited, followed by dance and music.

Groups of families visited each other in their homes, exchanged greetings and color and goodies to eat. New clothes were stitched for the day, only to be completely destroyed by the time the celebrations finished. It was a time to forget all pressures and tribulations, to exercise gay abandon and to welcome the new day with excited anticipation.

Our Holi this year too shall be stunted. I do not feel comfortable getting into celebration with all that has happened around us. There is a sensitivity to it and I wanted to respect that.

The media writes about the association of Holi and the songs that came about and around it. ‘Rang Barse’ from Silsila and from another in Baghbaan, seem to have garnered popularity. Both songs heard repeatedly over my younger days to my Father’s singing.. and I feel proud that it was my Father that gave those songs to me and now that through cinema, a certain eternal quality being attached to them.

My Father, looms large in whatever I do. Not surprising. I am looked upon as my Father’s father’s reincarnation. Or so my Father felt.

As sleep pierces me in painful reminders, I put my head down to the blessings of the elders. They that gave us life and the moments to live them. To leave us well provisioned for, not with the wealth of our commerce, but the wealth of their teachings. They led us through in meagre circumstances, never ever making us feel inferior or less provided for. How did they do this ? How did they !!

Happy Holi to all the family.. May your year be colorful and sublime and may all your wishes come true -

Love you

Amitabh Bachchan