Happy Holi

Holi, the spring festival, that marks the end of the clement weather co-incided with Easter this year. On the day of the festival, India takes to the streets to play Holi which involves showering people with water, powdered paint and, I'd been warned, much worse things. Apparently, one of the reasons for this is that spring is considered to be the season when everyone gets sick so showering people with water is supposed to cleanse them of sickness.

"Don't go out of your house on Holi" warned the lugubrious man who owns the hand made paper shop in Jorbagh market. This man knows everything about me. He knows all my family. He knows when my mother is coming back to Delhi and which airline she is flying. In fact, he has an odd knowledge of flights in general and always informs me as to whether the flights from London have arrived on schedule that day. A man then who clearly knows what he is about. "Why not?" I asked. "It is madness, complete madness. Everyone is throwing everything. You will be targetted as a foreigner and don't accept milk from anyone". "I beg your pardon?" "No milk. Everywhere, people will be offering you milk. This milk has bhang (marijuana) in it". "OK, well I don't generally accept milk from strangers so I'm not going to break the habit of a lifetime on Holi".

I asked around as to whether or not the man was exaggerating. A couple of the foreigners I asked said they had heard terrible tales of Holi in Old Delhi. The Indians almost universally agreed with Mr Paper Seller.

Duly warned, we prepared to hunker down for Holi. Jamie and Nikki and Ben who were staying had other ideas. They decided to venture out. One thing everyone was agreed on was that you needed to wear clothes you were prepared to throw away and cover your hair (girls). Armed with water pistols, Jamie, Nikk, Ben and Eliot set out. I stayed behind with Toby. An hour or two later, four very happy, very coloured people returned.

Apparently, in upmarket Jorbagh, they had struggled to find people to play Holi with. They had purchased coloured powder and pink spray and set out to find targets and be targetted. Although they passed plenty of technicolour people, they remained unscathed and eventually resorted to covering eachother to show willing. Finally, they turned into a lower rent housing area to find a group of people. They started spraying them with water and paint only to receive somewhat horrified stares. Eventually, the locals approached, dipped their hands in the powder paint, gently daubed them on the face and then gave them a hug. All much more genteel than we had been led to believe.

Euphoria

Jamie launched Virgin Mobile in India at the beginning of the month and has had to take part in a large number of office parties around India. The first, the main launch party, involved Sir Richard Branson jumping down several hundred feet of the Oberoi Towers hotel in Mumbai and taking part in a live Bollywood movie. The Delhi party which I attended was, in keeping with the difference between the two cities, a more subdued affair.

In a hotel on the outskirts of town, we rolled up to a red carpet theme extending to red carpet interviews complete with paparazzi and then rolled in to a 1970s hotel function room. Dingily lit and brownly carpeted, it felt much like the disco at Sandbanks I went to thinking myself somewhat of a rebel aged 10 when on holiday with my friend Max and his family. Strangely, half way through the evening, we were joined by a couple who might have been from Sandbanks who were on holiday in India, had managed to end up staying in this rather out of the way hotel and wanted to join the party.

The air of excitement among some of the employees surely could not just have been about the party or the opening of the business. Big things were expected and Jamie said that apparently a really popular Indian band would be playing. As the name of the band "Euphoria" was announced, screams broke out from the audience. One of the girls ran up to Jamie saying "Oh my God, this is the best night of my life, this is my favourite band!". "Don't worry" said Jamie, who assured me that things had improved since the days when we took buses to the accompaniement of songs sung so high that a few notes higher and only dogs would be able to hear; "Indian pop music is quite good to dance to".

To great fanfare the band walked on. An ageing rocker with black curly hair down to his waist; a rather studious looking guitarist in little round glasses, and the lead singer himself wearing jeans, leather jacket, white string vest and clearly older than me. To applause, the singer took off the jacket to reveal biceps that told of long hours at the gym but with a layer of fat which suggested that even the work outs were failing to halt the march of time on his body. The band began to play not the cheery Hindi pop music we expected but hard rock at top volume. Somewhat stunned, we watched as Virgin Mobile Delhi took to the dance floor. Fist pumping, jumping, head banging. It was all there.

Leaving the crowd a little later, we were talking to one of Jamie's colleagues. "Are they really one of the biggest bands in India?". "Oh yes, I particularly like their Sufi music". "Sufi Music???". "Yes, they started out as a Sufi band and then started to sing in English. The lead singer is a surgeon by profession". Somewhat sceptically, we eyed the guys on stage thumping their way through the latest tune. A few songs later, however, (were they never going to take a break?) the music did tone down and became quite pleasant. Half an hour on and they had moved on to covers of 'Another Brick in the Wall' and 'We will rock you'. The hall's promise of a 1970s wedding was fulfilled.

If you would like more information about Euphoria, check out: http://www.dhoom.com/