Holi ; coloured faces

Happy Holi to you and all but dear lord how I hate Holi! Yeah, yeah, Holi is the festival of brotherhood and love and all that crap, when even the arch enemies forget their rivalry to neck each other for a new feeling to sprout but dear lord how I hate it!

They play colours that don’t make a sense to me. What joy could one get while colouring another guy’s face? Yeah, finding joy while colouring the face of an opposite gender do make some sense. If they find pleasure over their accomplishment of colouring one’s face, better play cricket or badminton for God’s sake. Probably they feel happy about it because they think they are supposed to feel happy about it no matter how much time they spend while bathing that day and scrubbing their faces to fatality.

But it’s not the colour that bothers me much. It’s what they do afterwards that bothers me. They meet. The hell they meet. They meet people they haven’t given a damn for the entire year and they meet artistically and cheerfully. They don’t have topics to talk about but they meet. They don’t have topics therefore they crack jokes. They crack jokes that aren’t even funny and they laugh like Hyenas on jokes that aren’t even funny. They talk about summers, heat, God, generation and all those topics that are very redundant to talk about and then they crack jokes that aren’t even funny. In fact it’s only the joke that can be new to someone. But even the unheard jokes aren’t funny.

I mean why do they meet? I mean, meet me if you want to but don’t meet me just because you think you are supposed to meet and crack a joke that isn’t even funny.

Anyways, happy Holi and colours and all but meet me with a genuine face, not a coloured one.