VIBGYOR – FESTIVAL OF COLORS

 

                                   VIBGYOR – FESTIVAL OF COLORS

 

  The year was early 2020   with the vicious tentacles of the lethal Corona virus were    still to deliver its deathly blow on the world and the pandemic which accompanied it was ravenously was still lurking in the dark shadows and cranny corners.  

 

Meanwhile in Delhi families from several ritzy colonies had assembled inside the imposing gates of an opulent house where IMFL flowed like water as the festivities of Holi stepped-up and colour was generously sprayed on one another.

 Outside the upmarket bungalow, a group of destitute people desperately waited for some crumbs to satiate their hunger as they were a witness to sumptuous servings of Paneer Tikkas and Galoti Kebabs along with alcohol being served.

 

The festival of Holi was being celebrated by the faithful and revellers alike with fervour.     Holi festivities strikes a resonance and significance among various Hindu traditions of the Indian subcontinent. Several opine that the festival marks an end and purges oneself of failings of the past, to end conflicts by mingling with others, and a day to forget and forgive.

People pay or forgive debts, as well as deal anew with those in their lives. Holi also marks the start of spring, an occasion for people to enjoy the changing seasons and make new friends.

The rich were radiant. For the poor, there was utter darkness all around.  All they hoped was for one square of meal. Each meal counted for survival.  

It was a riot of colour as Rajiv and Sangita made a dramatic entry. The esteemed couple were celebrities.

Rang Barse from Silsila, a Holi staple, was being played as former college mates and their new acquaintances and friends were dancing and crooning unabashedly. The pack became rambunctious with the carousing   reaching a summit.

Sunil, the host and a dear friend of Dr Rajiv Gupta and Sangita, spiked the drinks of some teetotallers, after seeking Rajiv’s consent.

The situation soon became ugly as majority of those present became inebriated. Drivers and staff of these silk-stocking individuals were quite amused and passed lurid remarks about the couples who had gathered to take part in the celebrations.

“Rajiv, I am feeling sick and nauseous,” Sangita said suddenly. Fortuitously, Dr Tanveer, a friend was present amongst the bacchanals.

He made valiant attempts to resuscitate Sangita who had swooned by then. She was rushed to a nearby hospital, complaining of acute breathlessness and high fever.   

A forlorn Rajiv looked as his prepossessing wife who was wheeled into the ICU. Specialists conducted a battery of tests. For several days, Sangita’s life was swinging like a pendulum.

Rajiv was berated by his parents and in-laws for the errant behaviour. Sunil too was not spared for his recklessness. All the Gods and celestial beings were beseeched seeking their intercession.

Sangita did not recover. She succumbed after tenuously holding on to life for many days. Doctors suspected flu.  

The woman, an MBA from an estimable management college had recently returned from overseas a few days prior to Holi. She worked for a multinational and had spent close to fifteen days at their factory in an industrial town. “Did she contract the disease there?” were thoughts which cannonaded Rajiv’s mind.  

After the cremation, family members and all those who attended the Holi celebrations were kept in isolation. Sangita’s ashes lay at Lodhi crematorium for days together.

Yes, life does have several colours, not just VIBGYOR. 

Sangita and her family had enjoyed the best and brightest colours in their lives. But the colourlessness of white, grey and black had engulfed them as it perennially does of the destitute gathered outside Sunil’s house.

 Dr Rajiv Gupta was out of isolation, but was a broken person.

Every day he masked his emotions and face feeling exceedingly low in spirits and emotions. He lost his wife on account of a strange flu.

Meanwhile words such as Covid-19, quarantine, masks, social distancing, sanitizers and vaccination were to still enter our lexicon.

But   this incident had taught Dr Rajiv a grave lesson and that was responsibility. While carousing with his friends on the fateful day he had seen the impoverished group of people who had gathered around the plenteous bungalow, but affectation and haughtiness had got better of him and his friends.

Soon there was a lockdown as the country faced the dreaded microorganism. Dr Rajiv got his act together and put back his suffering and became resolute to serve the patients who contracted the disease.

He worked hours together, without a break at the hospital and at nights used to visit the homeless and serve them with leftover food from his house.

 Dr Rajiv also initiated a project in his colony where youngsters collected leftover food  and old clothes and serving the impecunious became his mission in life.

He became a true frontline worker for the patients in the hospital and the poor outside. Dr Rajiv Gupta became a RAY OF HOPE and a beacon of light.