Purani waali Holi

Nikhil?

Sunnein?

Aaj Holi hai.

I remember when you once told me how Holi at your dadaji’s place used to be — the colours, the chaos, the laughter, the food, the way everyone would gather. I remember how animated you sounded when you described it. I remember thinking how much that memory meant to you.

I wonder if with Prachi being part of your family now, Holi looks like that again. I hope it does. I genuinely do. I would want you to experience that childhood warmth again — that noise, that belonging — even though I know Diwali was always your favourite. I know Holi carried something softer for you. I know you miss Lalit chacha during days like this.

I don’t say this with bitterness. I say it because loving you meant knowing those details. And that’s what confuses me the most.

Because I did love you.

I loved you, but I was immature, insecure, afraid of conflict, and scared of losing everything. I handled things badly. My actions didn’t reflect the love I felt. That’s on me.

You can love someone and still sabotage them.

You can love someone and still lie.

You can love someone and still act out of fear.

Love doesn’t automatically make people emotionally mature.

If someone repeatedly punishes, controls, reacts, shames, or creates fear — the other person doesn’t become more honest. They become more secretive.

That doesn’t excuse my behaviour. But it explains the environment.

Love was there.

Security wasn’t.

Yes, I hurt you. I handled things poorly. I was afraid and I acted from fear. I own that. But my mistakes don’t erase the love I felt.

Sometimes I feel like I’m pre-arguing with you in my head.

Why? 

Because part of me still wants you to understand me.

Not to take me back.

Not to absolve me.

Just to understand that I wasn’t evil. I wasn’t calculated. I wasn’t playing a game. I was scared. I was insecure. I was trying to hold everything together and ended up breaking everything instead.

There are days I am angry at you. Angry at how you reacted. Angry at how things escalated. Angry at how you could be so tender in one moment and so distant in another.

And then there are days like today.

Where I remember the red saree in Hyderabad.

You in that boski kurta.

The sindoor.

The mirror.

The way you held my face.

The way you kissed my forehead.

The way I kissed your nose.

The red bangles.

Your face. 

Your reaction when you asked me to turn to see you in that kurta

And I don’t know what to do with those memories.

I don’t know how to erase them.

I don’t know how to hate them.

I don’t know how to pretend they weren’t sacred to me.

I know we hurt each other.

I know I hurt you.

I know you hurt me.

But what we had wasn’t empty. It wasn’t fake. It wasn’t a lie.

It was just two emotionally unregulated people trying to love from fear instead of security.

And today, on Holi, I find myself wishing you warmth — not because I am weak, but because love once lived here, and I don’t want to turn it into poison.

Happy Holi Jaana