The Holî, while generally observed in Northern India, is performed with special care by the cowherd classes of the land of Braj, or the region round the city of Mathura, where the myth of Krishna has been localized, and it is here that we meet with some curious incidents which are undoubtedly survivals of the most primitive usages.
The ceremonies in vogue at Mathura have been very carefully recorded by Mr. Growse.[65] He notes “the cheeriness of the holiday-makers as they throng the narrow, winding streets on their way to and from the central square of the town of Barsâna, where they break into groups of bright and ever varying combinations of colour, with the buffooneries of the village clowns, and the grotesque dances of the lusty swains, who, with castanets in hand, caricature in their movements the conventional graces of the Indian ballet girl.
“Then follows a mock fight between the men of the adjoining village of Nandgânw and the women of Barsâna. The women have their mantles drawn down over their faces and are armed with long, heavy bamboos, with which they deal their opponents many shrewd blows on the head and shoulders. The latter defend themselves as best they can with round leather shields and stag horns, as they dodge in and out among the crowd, and now and again have their flight cut off, and are driven back upon the crowd of excited viragoes. Many laughable incidents occur. Not unfrequently blood is drawn; but an accident of this kind is regarded rather as an omen of good fortune, and has never been known to give rise to any ill-feeling. Whenever the fury of their female assailants appears to be subsiding, it is again excited by the men shouting at them snatches of ribald rhymes.”
The Lighting of the Holî Fire.
Next day the Holî fire is lit. By immemorial custom, the boys are allowed to appropriate fuel of any kind for the fire, the wood-work of deserted houses, fences, and the like, and the owner never dares to complain. We have the same custom in England. The chorus of the Oxfordshire song sung at the feast of Gunpowder Plot runs,—
A stick and a stake
For King James’s sake;
If you won’t give me one,
I’ll take two,