Holi is the vibrant Indian festival of colour. You've probably seen the photos. Mounds of coloured powder in impossibly vivid hues and water pistols. Kids of all ages and grown ups, excited to get together, play and celebrate life. What's not to love about that? Yet, it evokes very mixed feelings for me every year.I grew up in the big, bustling metropolis of Bombay, or Mumbai as it’s known now. The reality is that Holi was a time of the year when people (especially young girls), were relentlessly targeted with water balloons by others (mostly young boys). Just walking on the streets and going about your business made you fair game for being pelted by these liquid missiles. This went on for weeks. I disliked this forced ‘play’ intensely. It seemed to be an even bigger licence for the cat calling, indecent advances and general harassment, that went on during the rest of the year.One Holi, I was making my way home around 4 O'clock in the afternoon after playing Holi in the neighbouring compound. Only a little while ago everyone was out, busy with the festivities. But now there was a lull and not many people were around. As I approached the road, a loud and rowdy bunch of youths was passing. I don't know if they were drunk, but my stomach tensed when I saw them and I hesitated in my tracks. Maybe I ought to go back and find the others, where was everybody? Too late, I had already been spotted and a couple of them headed in my direction now. In a flash the whole gang was upon me like a pack of bloodthirsty wolves, groping and grabbing in a manic frenzy. The world closed in as they completely surrounded and manhandled me. For I don't know how long, in broad daylight, practically on our doorstep. In the mayhem, a calm voice suddenly appeared and called off the pack. One of the members of the group was appealing to their higher nature, asking them to stop. I don’t know how they even heard him above the clamour. It must have been the intervention of Grace, but just as suddenly as they had pounced on me, they now detached themselves from my body one by one and followed him into the distance. As if they’d heard the Pied Piper of Hamelin, they disappeared without a trace. I stood there shaken, not sure if I'd simply imagined it all. I'm not sure how long passed, then I continued to make my way home, feeling disconnected from my body. And dirty. I didn't want talk to anyone about it. Inside the slowly spreading freeze, a confusion of thoughts was cycling rapidly round my head and forming into a story:I AM PREY!!!! I had brought this upon myself after all - by attracting negative attention - so I must deserve it.
There was more: I'm a target for predators. That's my lot, my destiny. I must not make a fuss and attract any further attention! I’m not safe on my own in the world. I have to learn to tolerate harassment. This is normal. Suck it up.For the longest time, I couldn’t understand why the thought of travelling on my own to unfamiliar places, bringing any sort of attention towards myself, being in the spotlight or in groups of strangers, activated a stress response inside me. I'm generally a confident person, I've faced my share of challenges and worked through them with courage. Yet, I felt extremely exposed and vulnerable in these situations, and I needed to cover it up. I found myself sitting on the sidelines, supporting others to the heights of success and hiding behind their glory. While there's nothing inherently wrong with any of that, they were not a natural expression of my authentic self. It became a coping mechanism for me to avoid pain. No matter how well it's disguised, our pain doesn't go away when we bury it. It generates more suffering from the shadows, until we finally stop running away and shine light of love. So, I started to dig deeper and join the dots. Unravelling the sticky knot that prevented me from fully enjoying the adventures I longed to have is quite the journey. The freedom and independence on the other side of discomfort is worth it a hundred times over. These type of experiences are very common, particularly in Indian cities. Sadly, I'm not the only one who has had this happen to them, most people I speak to have their own version with a few different details. I'm probably in the minority of people who gets to resolve it fully from their psyche. Most will live a life that's scarred by the imprints left behind and numb their suffering in unwholesome ways. Some will be called to step into the unknown, and do what it takes to heal. For them, the presence of darkness is an invitation to discover the light of under it all. In a place deeper than shame, gilt and fear, I knew that I/we don’t have to tolerate harassment. I didn't want a life of being forced to remain shrunken and invisible from the fear of being attacked. I knew without a shadow of a doubt, that I’m destined for all kinds of incredible things. I deserve to be treated with love and respect. The power to heal is within each one of us and when we choose freedom for ourselves, then Nature supports us in this endeavour in miraculous, serendipitous ways. It may seem like the whole world is against you, but that's just a pocket of culture. All of Life is moving towards deeper harmony and wholeness, and it has your back, when you have yours. That's the deeper truth!
Pic Credit John Thomas on Unsplash