XVII

A HINDU FESTIVAL

Poets may sing,

  “Let the ape and tiger die,”

but they are not quite dead yet, only caged, and where is the man in whose bosom there lurks no wish that he could open the door just once in a way and let them have a frisk?  In the East there is no hypocrisy about the matter.  The tiger’s den is barred and locked, and the British Government keeps the key, but the ape has an appointed day in the year on which he shall have his outing.  They call it the Holi, which is a misnomer, for of all Hindu festivals this is the most unholy; but of that anon.

I asked a Brahmin what this festival commemorated, and he said he did not know.  He knew how to observe it, which was the main thing.  Of course, there is an explanation of it in Hindu mythology, which the Brahmin ought to have known, and very probably did know, but was ashamed to tell.  But it matters little, for we may be well assured that the explanation was invented to sanctify the festival long after the festival itself came into vogue, as has been the case with some of our most Christian holidays.

The Holi comes round about the time of the vernal equinox, when victory declares for day and warmth in its long struggle with night and cold.  Then Nature rises and shakes herself as Samson rose and shook himself and snapped the seven new cords that bound him, as tow is snapped when it smells the fire.  Then “the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest,” and then also the young Hindu’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love; and so it came about quite naturally that, looking around, among his plentiful gods, for a deity who might fitly be invited to preside over his lusty rejoicings at this season, he pitched upon Krishna.

For Krishna, when he was upon this earth, was an amorous youth, and his goings on with certain milkmaids were such as would shock Mrs. Grundy at the present day even in India, supposing he had been only a man.  But he was a god, therefore his doing a thing made it right, and, where he presides, his worshippers may do as he did.  Consequently, man, woman and child of every caste and grade give themselves licence, during these days of the Holi, to act and speak in a manner that would be scandalous at any other time of the year.

Hindus of the better sort are beginning to be outwardly, and some of them, I hope, inwardly, rather ashamed of this festival, and it is time they were.  Yet there is always something cheering in the sight of untutored mirth and exuberant animal joy breaking out and triumphing over the sadness of life and the monotony of lowly toil; and I confess that I find a pleasing side to this festival of the Holi.  I like it best as I have seen it in a fishing village on the west coast of India.