At midday, the drumming stopped. The crowd moved slowly to bathe in the river and as it thinned, three men with gold paint stopped us, to smear a final coat of colour onto our faces. “You are Indian now,” they said, with gold hands on our gold cheeks, and it felt true. The scene at the river was primeval: the entire town was bathing, washing off the day’s excesses in the brown water.
From Holi: India’s Festival of Colours, by Iain