Holi, the festival of colours, is more than just a Hindu tradition; it is a jubilant expression of unity, love, and the triumph of good over evil. Celebrated across the globe, this ancient festival has carved out its own unique space in the heart of Sri Lanka. I had the privilege of immersing myself in this vibrant spectacle, and what I encountered was nothing short of magical.
Rooted in Hindu mythology, Holi marks the arrival of spring and the renewal of life. In Sri Lanka, this vibrant festival brings an overflow of joy, unity, and cultural appreciation, where societal boundaries fade, and people come together to celebrate in a kaleidoscope of colours. In March 2025, the Indian community in Colombo, under the banner of Colombo Indians (COLIND) and the Indian CEO Forum (ICF), hosted an extraordinary Holi celebration on the pristine shores of Mount Lavinia Beach. The event brought together a diverse gathering of Indians, Sri Lankans, expatriates, and travellers, all united in the spirit of this colourful tradition.
From the moment I stepped onto the festival grounds, I was enveloped in a vibrant explosion of colour. It was impossible to remain a bystander; the very essence of Holi demands participation. Strangers became friends in an instant, their faces smeared with bright powders, their laughter echoing through the salty ocean breeze. Here, nationality and background didn’t matter; everyone was welcome, embraced, and celebrated.
Initially, I planned to observe, to take in the festival as a storyteller rather than a participant. But that resolve lasted mere minutes. Santosh Menon, effortlessly blending with the crowd in a raincoat, playfully smeared color on my face and said, “You’re here to write about Holi, but you must live it first. That’s the only way to truly understand it.” Within moments, I was swept into a whirlwind of colour and water, dancing and laughing with complete strangers who, for that moment, felt like lifelong friends.
Children ran across the sand, their laughter piercing the air as they chased each other with water guns. “This is the only time we get to splash water on our grandma without getting scolded!” a young boy named Abdul told me, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
Travellers from around the world had come specifically for this event, having heard of its unique atmosphere. “We don’t have Holi in our country, but here, we feel like we belong,” a European couple told me as they swayed to the music, their hands entwined, their faces streaked with pink and blue.
For those wondering about the powders used, Holi colours are traditionally derived from natural sources. As someone with extremely sensitive skin, I was relieved to find that these colours, made from herbal ingredients like turmeric, flowers, and cornstarch; were gentle and safe to use.
Of course, no festival is complete without food, and Holi by the beach was no exception. Stalls lined the shore, offering an irresistible array of Indian delicacies. The aroma of paneer masala, spicy chaats, and freshly fried pakoras filled the air. I indulged in gulab jamuns, their syrupy sweetness melting in my mouth, and immediately wished I had packed some for later.
What struck me most was that no one rushed to wash off the colours. Instead, they wore them proudly, badges of a shared memory. I, too, walked away, my skin stained in hues of pink, blue, and green, my heart painted with the warmth of an experience I would carry forever.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an amber glow over the now multi-colored beach, I took a moment to reflect. Holi was not just about colour; it was about acceptance. It was about allowing oneself to be seen, embraced, and to embrace others in return. It was a reminder that joy is universal, that celebration knows no borders, and that the world is brighter when we let our differences paint a collective masterpiece.
