Holi terror

Let me count the many, many reasons why I absolutely loathe this festival

I think it is fair to say that I am a sucker for a good festival. I dance around the Lohri bonfire; I go bonkers with diyas on Diwali; I love getting into the Yuletide spirit around Christmas; and I treat Eid as an occasion to OD on biryani and seviyan.

But there is one festival that I simply can't get behind. And that is Holi. I can see those of you who embrace the Holi madness every year shaking your heads sadly, and wondering what on earth is wrong with me.

Well, take a good look in the mirror. You see the remnants of the red colour you were dunked in all over your arms, legs and face? You see the hair that has turned a virulent green because of the colours dumped on it? And you see, don't you, that it will take at least a week before you can revert to your normal self? I rest my case.

But quite apart from all the damage the excesses of Holi inflict on your skin and hair, there really is nothing to love about this festival. Okay, I can probably get behind the consumption of industrial quantities of gujiya and the mainlining of bhaang, but not if it comes with the other, less savoury, parts of this festival.

I guess you get the drift by now. I hate Holi. I loathe it with a passion. I detest it intensely. Let me count the many reasons why:

* Street hooliganism: You can tell that Holi is approaching when walking or driving down the streets becomes an active hazard. You can't stroll through the neighbourhood without some pesky kids chucking water balloons on you from some balcony or terrace (and if you've ever felt the full impact of this, you know they hurt like crazy). There is no getting away from people who think throwing indelible paint on your car is some kind of joke (oh, how we laughed!). Or from those sickos who think this festival gives them license for a good old grope.

* Peer pressure: No matter how loud and hard you protest that you are not playing Holi this year (or any year, really), your family/friends/neighbours will refuse to take you seriously. Think you can lock yourself into your house and get away with it? No chance. A bunch of inebriated, over-excited folks will show up on your doorstep and refuse to take no for an answer. They will create such a ruckus that you will emerge reluctantly, if only to prevent them from breaking down the door and trashing your house. And then, it will be open season, as you are hosed down with pichkaris and doused in psychedelic paints.

* Playing dirty: It doesn't matter how often your friends swear that they are keeping Holi 'low key' and 'organic' this year ("just some abeer and gulal, I swear, we won't use a drop of water"). There is always one member of the party (you know who you are) who will play dirty. He (and it is invariably a he) will start off by introducing water -- the colder, the better -- into the mix. He will then throw in hard colours (it is no point telling him that you have an important presentation tomorrow; he is beyond reason by now). And then, depending on how many glasses of bhaang he has tucked away, he will use mud, tomatoes, eggs, just about anything really, to smear your face and body. Sigh!

* Looking like a mess: No matter how hard you try, you will never really look like Rekha and Amitabh Bachchan in that iconic Holi scene in Silsila. You remember it, don't you? The lovers dressed in pristine white kurta-pyjamas, which gradually take on the colour of the gulal being sprinkled liberally all around, while their cheeks glow radiant with abeer. Sadly, real life is never like that. No matter how hard you try, you will never ever succeed in looking quite so photogenic while playing Holi. What you will look like is a red hot mess; and worse, a mess that will take a week to clear.

* Sexual harassment: It starts about a week before Holi, building up to a crescendo on the day of the festival itself. In the run-up to the day, there will be office 'Holi parties' where the resident perverts will feel up all the women on the pretext of getting colour on them. There will be 'Holi milans' in the neighbourhood where the creepy uncles will let their hands roam free. And the day itself will be a nightmare of grasping hands, unwanted embraces, and roughhousing with a sexual edge that is hard to miss.

Given all this, are you surprised that I loathe this festival? Frankly, I am surprised that there aren't more people who feel this way. Or maybe they do, but are forced to grin and bear it for fear of being seen as spoilsports or stick in the muds.

Well, I have no problem in taking unpopular stands. So, I am saying no to Holi; this year and ever after. No more forced dunkings in chilly vats of coloured water. No more being groped and pulled about by men who are three sheets to the wind.

Next year, I am packing my gujiya and bhaang and taking off for some beach nearby. The only colours I intend to play with are the gold of the sands, the turquoise of the sea and the sapphire of the cloudless sky. Don't you wish you could do the same?

The kids are all right

In fact, the only thing wrong with them is their parents

Question: Do you know what's wrong with kids today? Answer: Their parents. I can't quite remember where I read this, but I remembered it afresh last week. 

I was checking out the sales at the local mall when an urgent mail landed in my inbox. I stepped outside on the balcony and had just begun typing out a reply when a little cannonball came hurtling out of the store, headed straight for me, wrapped his chocolate-smeared hands around my legs, nearly toppling me over in the process. 

I tried to disengage myself gently but he held on with all the strength in his five-year-old arms, crying lustily all the while. I tried to comfort him even as I looked around anxiously for his parents/caregivers. But no one in the store seemed the slightest bit interested in him. 

And then, just as I was about to approach the shop manager, a young woman who had been intently examining the 70 per cent off rack, looked around, saw the child, marched up, dragged him away by the arm, and then, calmly resumed shopping. I assume she was his mother, given that he went without demur, even though she didn't quite fit the description of a parent as I understand it. 

I must admit that I was very tempted to have a few sharp words with her. First, for being completely oblivious of her child in a public place. Two, for just rushing off without even a word of apology. And three, for neglecting to upbraid her child for his behaviour, which wasn't just a nuisance for everyone else but an active danger to himself.

But I counted slowly to ten in my head, took a few deep breaths and then walked away. Because, seriously, what would be the point? And, more importantly, where would it end? I see dozens of examples of this kind of indifferent parenting every single day, extending all the way from benign neglect to senseless spoiling to criminal negligence. 

Just over the last week, I have seen children riding the baggage carousel at the airport while their parents tap away distractedly on their mobile phones; kids running around crowded restaurants without the slightest attempt by their parents to control them; and of course, kids having complete meltdowns in stores because they didn't get what they wanted (in the end, of course, they always do).

I accept that children can be a handful, especially if you have two under five, and I have every sympathy with harried parents who are having a hard time of it. What I cannot understand is why parents feel it is ever acceptable to abdicate all responsibility for their kids in public. It is not the waiter's job to keep your children safe from knives and forks in restaurants any more than it is the air hostess's job to tackle your kid as she runs up and down the aisle.

Honestly, what is up with parenting these days? Why are mums and dads so afraid to lay down the law for their children? Why are they loath to draw boundaries between what is acceptable behaviour and what is not? Why do they live in thrall to the demands of their children? And why are they so terrified of their temper tantrums? 

It is almost as if power has shifted in the family structure from the parents to the children. It is the kids who are in charge not the adults. Not quite the lunatics taking over the asylum, but close.

One reason for this is, of course, that parents have less time to devote to their children. Both mother and father usually work, seeing their kids only in the evenings and on the weekends. In the circumstances, it is perhaps understandable that they want to spend that time doing fun things, and are more willing to overlook bad behaviour or even bad manners.

But more than that, it is also that these days, parents have become devotees of the Cult of the Deified Child. In this cult, the child is the object of worship, the whole world revolves around him, his every wish is treated as a command, and he can simply do no wrong. (I use the pronoun 'his' advisedly because it is usually the male child who is worshipped that way; though pampered daughters are fast catching up.)

This leads directly to the propensity of modern parents to treat their children as minor miracles. They flood their Instagram accounts with cute pictures of their kids; they tweet all day about the absolutely adorable things they say; they Facebook their birthday parties and school concerts; and so on and on and on.

Small wonder then, that these children grow up believing that they are the centre of the universe, that rules of good behaviour or social niceties don't apply to them, that they can do just as they please because even if they screw up there will never be any consequences. Because that is exactly what their parents have taught them.

So yes, the only thing wrong with kids today is their parents. It really is time that they grew up.