HOLI: It is a magic word. It rouses the lazy and cheers up the glum. Even the slaves of a rigid routine feel free. For a few hours, all come closer as at no other time of the year.

Nature sets the stage for it. The air loses its winter nip. The mists fade and the sky is beautifully blue again. As a Sanskrit poet says, the days that lay curled up, stretch their limbs bit by bit now.

Dead roots stir and sprout. Flowers bloom in what was cold, dry dust. Stiff branches become lithe and leafy. More and more birds chirp and call. More and more creatures come out in the open. Everything looks fresh and new.

Men are no exception. They feel a new thrill in their veins. Throwing off the last of woollens, they feel light. And they like to go gay like nature itself.

The old join the young and experience the glow of youth. You’d say that Oliver Wendell Holmes’ words have come true:

O for one hour of youthful joy!

Give back my twentieth spring!

I’d rather laugh a bright-eyed boy

Than reign a gray-beard king.

A drum beats somewhere. It is a call to all fun lovers. It is an invitation to friends and strangers alike. Some at once respond to it.

Then more people come out. And they beat drums and sing and dance. Rang is sprayed on clothes. Gulal is daubed on faces. As it is thrown up, pink and yellow and green clouds float in the air.

The mood catches on. Spraying turns to dowsing. Bottles, balloons, syringes, sprinklers — all these are used to squirt or splash coloured water.

Faces are painted and repainted. Clothes look as though dyed in a dozen colours. Add to this jokes, pranks, donkey rides and moorkh sammelans. And of course eating and drinking.

What does the word Holi mean? Some say that it comes from the whoops of joy heard at the festival. "Ho! Ho! may still be heard at celebration time. But more common is the hilarious "Holi hai!" Some chant "Holi ayi re!" Others go to the legends. They link Holi with Holika, who was Hiranyakashipu’s sister. She enjoyed an unusual boon. She could touch fire without any harm to herself. Even if she sat in the flames, not a hair on her body would be singed.

Hiranyakashipu was favoured in another way. Neither man nor beast would kill him. This made him vain. He thought that he was all-powerful and forced his people to worship him.

But his young son Prahlada said that Vishnu was supreme. This made Hiranyakashipu furious. He planned the rebel’s death. But the boy escaped all his attempts. Now Hiranyakashipu made a plot with his sister. She seated herself on a pile of wood and called the boy to sit on her lap. The pile was lit. Flames enveloped both Holika and Prahlada. Hiranyakashipu smiled. But his joy was shortlived. The boy came out of the fire just as he had gone in. It was the evil aunt who was reduced to ashes.

Holika had forgotten that fire would not burn her only if she sat alone in it. The bonfires on the Holi eve re-enact the burning of Holika.

There is another story about the bonfires. But it does not explain the festival’s name.

Taraka had, by Brahma’s blessing, become very strong. Even the gods feared him. They prayed to Brahma for help. Brahma could not take back what he had bestowed. However, the gods were assured that a son of Shiva, yet to be born, would kill Taraka.

This was after Sati’s death. Shiva was living like a yogi then. But Parvati with her devotion, was trying to move him. Indra sent Kama to speed up things. Kama’s wife Rati and friend Vasanta went with him. Kama shot an arrow. Shiva opened his eyes and saw Parvati amidst all the splendour of spring. He felt a strange sensation. Then anger came over him. His third eye opened. Like lightning, a flame leapt forth from it. Kama was burnt to death.

Rati wept and cried. She begged Shiva to revive her husband. Shiva was moved. He granted that Kama would live again, though not in a bodily form. That is why he is ananga.

A third story centres round infant Krishna. The child was growing up in a cowherds’ village called Gokula. Kansa, the king of Mathura, had been told that he was fated to die at the boy’s hands. He sent Putana, a witch, to finish his foe.

In the guise of a milkmaid, Putana went to see the child. She played with him for a while. Then she tried to feed him with her poisoned breasts. But Krishna sucked the life out of her. Holi thus celebrates Krishna’s triumph over evil.

With Vikramaditya we come somewhere between legend and history. The king defeated an ominous horde of invaders. His people rejoiced in his victory. They celebrated it year after year.

In time, it seems, the memory of the event faded. The rejoicing went on as the festival of Holi.

There is a vivid glimpse of colour-throwing in Ratnavali. The play belongs to the seventh century. This means that Holi was popular even then. Says Harsha, the playwright: Witness the beauty of the great cupid festival which excites curiosity as the townsfolk are dancing at the touch of brownish water thrown from squirt-guns. They are seized by pretty women while all along the roads the air is filled with singing and drum-beating. Everything is coloured yellowish red and rendered dusty by the heaps of scented powder blown all over.

A vivid picture indeed. Long years have not staled it. No doubt the word Holi is not there. The festival is in honour of the god of love. But it is the occasion we now know as the carnival of colour.

Perhaps the legend of Holika was not popular then. Or maybe the Kama story appealed more to Harsha. Anyway, the word Holi came later.

Some Vijayanagar stone panels have colour-squirting scenes. The theme has long been a favourite with painters too. Rajput, Pahari, Deccani and other miniatures depict the Holi mood and merry-making. Some of them show Krishna and Radha. Some others present royal lovers or couples in their pavilions with pichkaris ready for use.

Holi songs are also very old. "Kinun sang khelun Holi’, begins a bhajan of Meera. The poetess mentions the festival in a few other songs as well. Again, many are the songs of Phagun, the month in which Holi comes.

To come back to the legends. They are about different gods. The incidents in them also differ. But all have a happy ending. The witch or the villain dies. Or, as the moralist would say, good triumphs over evil.

The timing of Holi raises another question. After an icy sway, the winter makes its exit. Spring steps in as a new ruler of the year. Does Holi gaiety reflect the new mood in nature?

The Bible tells of such occasions. Well-known are the lines from the Song of Solomon: "For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come..."

The Romans had their Flora and other such festivals. The English have their May Day. The Germans burn the winter’s effigy to hail spring. In New Mexico, Old Man Gloom goes up in flames.

Colour-spraying may not last more than a few hours but the Holi mood builds up over many days before the festival. People sing and dance and arrange melas, concerts and get-togethers.

Some people try to mar the merry-making. Some just do not leave those unwilling to participate in the festival alone. Some others go further. In place of safe, washable colours, they use oil paint or mud and ditch water.

Yet others get drunk and misbehave. There are brawls and the police has to be called in. This makes Holi seem a day of cads and the uncouth.

But Holi is meant to be a day of fun, a time to laugh away the cares of daily life. A mere squirt of water often does it. It drowns the distinction between rich and poor, high and low.

As people meet and hug one another, they feel a new joy, a new warmth. Hate, hostility, grouses — all go overboard.

Indeed, Holi is all about colour and a lot more.