I had decided to stick around Hyderabad for Holi, while not the most exuberant place to celebrate Holi, I would get a chance to attend the Indian School of Business (ISB)’s Holi party with my friend Sunny. It was being held the day before Holi since classes were being held on Holi. It was a much more tame celebration, than the marauding gangs of drunken young men that roamed the streets of Varanasi, where I was for Holi last year. I managed to get sufficiently colored nevertheless.
The next day I decided to head into the city for the actual day of Holi and attempt to seek out a Hindu Neighborhood. After wondering around for a while on the southern end of Hussain Sagar (the lake that lies between Hyderabad and its newer sister to the north Secunderbad) I heard some drum beats and wandered toward the sounds. It was not long before I encounter my first group of Holi celebrators. It was less than a few minutes after that first encounter that I myself received my first drenching of dye. A couple hours later I looked like a character out of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory drenched to the bone in pink dye. As I got up from the bus seat, on my way back to ISB, there was a large pink outline roughly the size of my rear end on the seat. I spent nearly as much time in the shower that afternoon as I had wandering the streets of Hyderabad that morning, trying with limited success to get he dye out of my skin and hair. Ah Holi, the one day holiday that lasts for weeks.
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