Last
year on the same day, I visited this small village near Mathura
called Barsana. It is known to be Radhaji's village. Barsana and a
few neighboring villages have this very interesting and traditional
way of playing Holi. The females of one village beat the men of the
neighboring village who come and tease them in their own village.
Thousands of devotees come here every year to see this eccentric
Holi. The visitors are mostly from nearby villages and states. And
ofcourse the non-Indian backpackers. No one visiting this village is
spared. The locals make sure that everyone is colored. No matter what
religion, profession or level of society you belong to, at the end of
this day everyone looks the same. And feels the same too, I guess.
There are no rules and unlimited colors. Majorly attracted by this
fact, my passion had to get me here.
I
visited this village for the first time in 2011. Loitering in the
narrow lanes of Barsana, I was attacked by these little, angelic
devils with their water guns, spraying out gallons of coloured water
and unbound love. They knew nothing but innocent mischief and
happiness. Let alone the children, most of the locals too, made sure
there was color all over me and my dearest camera. I was enjoying it
and was merrily clicking pictures. While on the colourful, joyous
spree, I ended up in this supremely attractive lane. No idea how and
when, but I found myself in this narrow, cobbled and hued lane.
Something made me wait exactly between these two houses. It was
probably the human instinct of wanting to be safe, regardless of the
innumerable colour-attacks I had already gone through. I heard some
chuckles above me and instantly understood that some notorious
monkeys were plotting to colour me yet again. I looked up to see a
little boy positioned on one of the two terraces, to splash blue
coloured water on this person standing right next to me. I clicked.
That shot was just as spontaneous as the registration of its sight in
my head. And both probably happened at the same time. I checked my
camera- it was the best shot I had ever captured in my life.
I
somehow could imagine myself playing the exact same prank, in the
exact same way, if I was a kid in Barsana. So totally awed by his
kittenish moves, I asked him his name and he replied impishly, “Sab
muje Chotu bulate hain”.
I asked him if I could join him on his terrace and click a few
pictures. We spent half a day together and I was overwhelmed by the
warmth I received from everyone at his place, including his mother.
It was one of my most memorable and satisfying experience in more
than just one way.
That
picture travelled places. It was published in one of the best
photography magazines named “Better Photography” in India. I
received a lot of appreciation from friends and followers of my work.
Good pictures seep into you, but then there are some that define
you. Needless to say, this
picture is extremely close to my heart for reasons, I still sometimes
wonder about.
Its 2012
now, I have come again to this magical place, for the sole reason
that I have grown. Grown as a photographer, saw and understood things
in a better way, have better equipments to cover the festival in a
better way and also because I got connected to the place. This time I
am traveling with a very close friend and a phenomenal photographer,
Indrasen. We are staying in Mathura, an hour’s drive from Barsana.
We reached here early morning on the day of the festival. I was very
well aware of how crazy Barsana was going to be that day. Just as
excited as we were, I was also cautious to cover our bags and cameras
with plastic. Getting our souls drenched would be cool but we could
not afford to let the madness seep into our equipments. We reached
Barsana around noon. The village was as crazier than what I had
experienced and anticipated. It felt as if the sole purpose of these
myriad of people was to soak me and Indrasen with colours. Through
and through, again and again. We were ceaselessly bombarded with pure
gulaal and coloured water. Not one person in the village was
uncolored, now including us. We walked a little as I explained to
ndrasen how and what I did last year when I was here. We kept on
walking and clicking for a few hours.
As we
were exploring the place, somewhere deep down my heart, I was hoping
to find that lane where I clicked Chotu last year. Eventually, as we
spoke to people on our way, and while capturing the festive moments,
we reached a lane which looked a little similar to the Chotu lane. My
heart started thumping in hope and excitement. The hand pump at the
end of the lane confirmed it to be the one I was wishing it was. I
wasn't expecting anything more to happen. I just wanted to show to
Indrasen where exactly I clicked that super shot last year. I went
and stood on the same spot and was waiting for Indrasen to come. My
friend was capturing the frolic of this little girl who was happily
lost in her play of colors, throwing 10 grams at a go. Her hands were
really small and it wasn't possible for her to grab more gulaal.
I
suddenly hear this voice above me and I look up. It was an unknown
face. I asked Indrasen to rush as that was the exact situation as
last year and I really wanted him to feel it. As soon as he came, we
saw this man who was holding a similar bucket, filled with pink
coloured water, at the the exact same spot at the terrace, splashing
it on people passing by down there. Deja-vu. I quickly clicked a few
shots and you will not believe if I tell you that I ended up getting
an equally amazing picture.
My emotions were just about to overflow
and guess who I saw. Yes, Chotu, looking at me from the exact same
terrace giving me a look which I could not help but capture. I
clicked and didn’t stop.
I called him down this time. No words can
even remotely define the rush I was going through at that point. I
just couldn't believe how the whole thing just repeated itself. I
never in my life thought, I would meet this little boy again. This
little soul because of whom my photograph went places. I couldn't
believe I was living through that moment. I literally had to close my
eyes for a bit and tell myself, this
is happening, Trupal. Everything around you is for real.
I guess he remembered me and was obviously unaware of the fact that
he got published in a magazine. It's funny how he holds so much
significance in my life and hardly knows about it. It’s funny how
thousands of people have seen him but he is least bothered about it.
It was one of those intense moment when you completely lose the
ability to think or react. He came down and Indrasen told him, “tujhe
pata hai tera photo magazine me aaya hai”.
And he didn't know how to respond to that. He wasn't interested. Not
one bit. All he wanted to do was to play with colors and run around.
I was still glued at the same spot, thinking how life if full of
surprises. How a small moment or a person can make it so memorable.
It's impossible for me to forget that instant. I obviously went to
his terrace again, spent some quality time with his family again, and
captured some inexplicable moments for life, again. This entire
experience made me feel rooted, connected- closest I’ve ever been
to my god.
कवि
के कुछ लव्ज़ों
में
जैसे,
यादों
का
असर
बस
जाता
है..
तस्वीर-
ए-
कैद लम्हों
में
ऐसे,
रब
का
अक्स
नज़र
आता
है.
I didn't
want to leave that place but I had to go. We had a lot of other
things to click. We left and started walking back from where we came.
Someone from the crowd suggested that we should go to this place
where the boys from the neighboring village gather before coming in
Barsana to get beaten up. They gather there to drink 'bhaang'.
An Indian drink which has the capablity to give you a trip equivalent
to LSD or any other hard drug. People say it can make a person
hallucinate for 24 hours or 36 hours, in worst cases. I really wanted
to try it but thought should be responsible as I was carrying some
expensive equipments. We reached that place which was under a tree,
outside the village where boys were enjoying themselves over bhaang.
We
clicked a few pictures there and headed back to the temple which was
on a small hill next to the village. According to the tradition these
boys have to come up to the temple, pray and then run down the hill
back to the village where the females are waiting to welcome them
with the sticks in their hands, obviously to beat them up. We reached
the temple and couldn't believe what we saw up there. Thousands of
people drenched in colour. It was a different sight all together.
Since morning we had not seen so many people together anywhere. Here
people were going barbaric on the live music of dhol.
Many danced like there was no tomorrow. Many watched and a lot of
other people threw water and colours on these myriad of men who were
dancing and enjoying themselves.
There was no need to know anyone to
dance with, play holi with or to simply sit back and enjoy with. It
was an environment which would make any human being go crazy and
happy. Uncountable number of people playing holi, together. Even if
one didn’t want to play, he/ she didn't have a choice. We were
standing within this huge wave of people who were ready to race to
get inside the temple as soon as the doors opened. All these people
were dancing in the temple’s courtyard that was surrounded by high
walls and balconies from 3 sides. Masses were standing on those walls
and at the balconies to pour coloured water at others. There was
absolutely no chance that one could be spared. We really had to take
care of our equipments because we wouldn’t know how and when would
we get showered with colour and water.
To add
to this madness the authorities arranged for a helicopter which would
come every 5 minutes and downpour rose petals on this already mad
crowd. Everytime it came, people would get charged up and welcomed it
with loud roars and hands cheering high up in the air. I had never
before this day seen anything so insane. Not even the previous time I
came here. I remember this one time just before the doors opened how
this huge splash of water drenched me and Indrasen. Before we could
get back to our senses, the door of the temple opened, and good god
gracious!- we were floating in that wave of almost 700-800 people,
being pulled and pushed by a thousand more, who were trying to get
inside the temple as soon as possible. It was like pushing a
watermelon through a keyhole. I remember how I saved my camera and
myself from getting crushed. I also remember shouting to Indrasen
“take a left as soon as you get in” because it was impossible to
be together in such madness. We entered getting squeezed and thrown
around by people. By this time I could premeditate what would be
happening inside. And I was right. Hundreds of people were just
waiting for the rest to get in. The were ready with unlimited yellow
water and colours. As soon as we entered we lost the sense of
direction. Our brains stopped working. We didn’t know how to save
ourselves and our equipments from this yellow cloudburst that came in
from all 8 sides. It was utter madness. I remember this look on
Indrasen's face which was confused and lost.
I was sure he had never
seen something like this ever before. We were drenched and so were
our cameras. It was a million dollar opportunity to click this
madness but our brains stopped functioning. It took us quiet some
time to get back to normal. We couldn't even see each other, let
alone figuring camera settings and clicking pictures. We were
clicking blind(colour)-foldedly.
In this
hysteria, no matter how crazy and bad it became, it is only our souls
and hearts that know this to be the ultimate happiness. This is what
life is for me- crazy, mad, unpredictable, full of colours and
happiness. There was so much energy. Everywhere my eyes could see, I
saw untapped excitement. Each and every human being was lost in iving
to the fullest. Enjoying to the core. That is exactly how I’d
choose and expect my life and of the ones around me to be.
I and
Indrasen together had the best photography equipments one could dream
of. From the most expensive cameras to the most amazing lenses
ranging from wide angles to 50 mm to zooms. We were skilled and had
enough knowledge to get good pictures. A photographer could not have
asked for a better view. The place was full of subjects, energy and
life. We spent 15 mad minutes inside that temple and the irony is
that both of us, together, could not even manage to get one decent
picture. The message was very clear that equipments hardly matter. It
is all just in the moment. We probably got too lost in those magical
minutes. Every second was worth it. It felt like we travelled all
this way only because we were destined to feel those maddening
minutes of bliss.
We got
out and decided to walk down hill. Exhausted, confused and puzzled
what just happened with us. We were surprised at the sight we saw as
we were coming down. It was this gang of guys who came running down
only to tease these females and to get beaten up. The entire village
went mad. The crowd from all around the village gathered in those
lanes to witness the crazy beating. I still don’t understand the
logic behind this tradition, nor do I wish to find out why they beat
and take the beating. There are a lot of things I would love to
witness/ feel and just enjoy without knowing why. I think I leave it
as soon as I get happy. All that matters is happiness. For them is
beating and for me it’s clicking. Haha
I and
Indrasen kept on walking towards our car which was only a couple of
miles away. Not to forget the streets were flooded with people. 10
people were standing on a platform which could religiously
accommodate only 5. I knew that walking down those 2 miles was going
to be a mission. I was actually enjoying while I walked clicking and
saving myself from getting hit by these crazy females. Soon I
realized I didn’t have to put in any efforts to walk at all. I was
floating amidst the crowd. The mob literally was transporting my,
luckily in the same direction that I was supposed to go in.
I was
lost in my thoughts as I lost Indrasen too and was walking alone and
suddenly I could feel this gush of people behind me. I knew I was
going to be pushed by those thousands of people behind me. Before I
could think much, that little push started getting converted into a
rage. I was lucky enough to be on the side of the road and decided to
sit on this really small platform with exactly 10 inches of place to
rest my butt. I thought I was lucky till I realized that what I
simply thought could be a stampede was actually a bloody STAMPEDE.
Imagine this. I was sitting on a small platform like wall on the side
of the road, there are thousands of people and a stampede on the road
and I sort of forgot my legs in that stampede. Yes, my legs were a
part of the flow with my butt resting on that platform. Trust me and
excuse me for my language, but I had my balls in my mouth when I
realized that I am being pulled by the fucking bull like people. I
felt as if I was going to fall and die in this madness. I was on the
knee level of the rest of the people who were actively IN the
stampede. I really flipped. I remember piercing my nails in someones
thighs who was standing on that platform. I shouted and kept on
shouting “ (bhaiya muje
khada karo)3
“. It was a feeling
of being swallowed by this huge blind and deaf mad crowd. I thank god
and that man who felt the pain of my penetrating nails and realized
that there was a man who needs to be rescued. He pulled me up. I was
shivering and was completely blank. I swear it is impossible to even
begin to express the feeling of almost facing death. It was scary.
All this while I had my video on and somehow I have managed to
capture the fear in my voice. Check out this video.
After
the man pulled me up I stood in those 10 inches for more than 30
minutes. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to reach the
car. I didn’t want to move from that place. I
just wanted to be there and feel alive. I just wanted to be there and
acknowledge my existence. I
saw that entire stampede pass by. I saw people fighting. I saw the
females with the sticks hitting the people around them randomly. I
saw a man with a stick in his hand gone crazy and was hitting anyone
and everyone in the crowd. I was shivering and I completely zoned
out. I just couldn’t think and felt zombified . I stood still with
my video on and kept talking videos of that hysteria around me. It
was after 45 mins that I dared to step down on the road and walk back
to my car. I met Indrasen near the car equally blank and zonked. It
was like someone punching you on your nose and then drowning you in
the water. Yes I swear it was a bad. I will never ever forget those
last 2 hours I spent in Barsana.
We were
dead by the time we reached home. But the ride back was fun. There
was this local boy called Kaluaa, who was sitting with us on the back seat of
this long jeep called Toofan.
Haha.He entertained us so much on our way back that we forgot all out
tiredness and mental shocks. I am sure he was tripping on the bhaang.
He kept on cracking dirty jokes and passing 'ghati'
comments revolving around this female who was sitting on the front
seat of our Toofan. It was hilarious. Loads of uncontrollable
laughter- a peaceful end to the mad/ blissful/ colourful/ traumatic
day.
One of
the major reasons why I love traveling so much is I can meet so many
people. It doesn’t matter what cast or level of society they belong
to. They become my best of friends. He still calls me quiet
regularly. I love such bonds which only share happiness. You know
whenever you pick up calls from such people all you'll hear is
happiness. Lot’s of it. With every trip that I make, I get closer
to my unison with the universe. And every person I meet, plays the
role of a piece in my cosmic puzzle- even one block missing and I’ll
be incomplete. At the end, everything begins to feel one- like my
life’s jig-saw is being completed.
