Colored powder and joyful shouts filled the air. On the grounds of the Maharana’s Vintage Car Palace, we danced and enticed the bemused staff in joining us. In no time, we were unrecognizable under splashes of colour.
Holi is a cherished spring festival second in importance only to Diwali. Having grown up in Kenya, it was a dream come true to celebrate Holi in the traditional manner.
That evening, our carriage turned into a pumpkin – or more correctly, the second class sleeper berths on Indian Railways hurtling towards Indore. The initial shock of clambering down from royal heights gave way to quiet delight in striking up conversations with the 99.999% of Indians who do not live in palaces.