Cheeku,
Holi is your festival and as I hear kids screaming and shouting, putting colour on each other, singing…I can feel you so much around me.
You defined Holi in your inimitable style. Full of verve and life, you would always play the first round quickly at home because you had to go out and collect the ‘gang’. In your open jeep you would go from home of one friend to another and collect them…then the day of colour and fun would commence. But you would always bring all of them back home for the second round. Between family and friends you wouldn’t make any distinction but none would feel the second…I have so many photos of yours all of you looking so cute in multicoloured faces…
Remember the time my friend Mimi had come from Geneva on Holi and all you guys decided to go and drop her to her hotel. And having seen a bull standing in the middle of the road how Deepu Bana said ‘This is a cow which does not give milk!’ How you had laughed at the joke and recalling the bewildered look on Mimi’s face trying to decipher this typical Hinglish!
And the time when you decided to lace the thandai with some bhang. ‘Would it be enough Ma? Would it have some effect, Dad?’ you kept asking, not wanting to go over board and yet wanting some kick out of it!
Holi will never be the same without you beta. And you would always be with us and yet missed all the time whenever the drums of Holi beat and colours fly.
I am jealous of all the Gods in heaven who must be laughing their hearts out at all the pranks you would be playing on them…
I miss you the most when I am in a crowd and bravely laughing at every little thing…because you always thought your Dad was brave and I can’t let you down…
I love you Cheeku
Dad