Holi in the Town I Grew Up In

I miss Ankola very much now. If you don't know, Ankola is a small town in Karnataka where I lived for seventeen long years. Seventeen years feels like a lifetime when I count it in school bags, friendship bands, and evening walks. I finished my entire schooling in a single institute, and I had (and still have) friends there. The kind of friends who know your house, your favorite bench, and your nature.

I miss watching Holi. I miss the high school quarters we stayed in, with their familiar sit outs and predictable noises. I miss my childhood friends, whose laughter still echoes in some corner of my memory like an old ringtone you never delete.

Watching Suggi was a delight back then. I absolutely love the culture of Suggi and the story behind it. Suggi is a regional folk dance art form, and is performed during the harvest and Holi season, mostly by the Halakki Vokkaliga and many other communities who follow and continue the tradition with utmost respect. The dancers dress in colorful costumes that they prepare on their own, paint their faces, and wear some attractive piece on their heads, which they call 'turaayi'. They move from house to house, dancing and singing, blessing people for a good harvest and a healthy year ahead. As a child, I only knew that Suggi meant color, chiming big anklets, and sudden happiness in the middle of ordinary days. It felt like witnessing a rich heritage and tradition through our streets. I still remember my excitement as a child during this season —the kind of excitement that makes you wake up early.

I used to wait for newspapers to reach home in the morning during the Holi season just to see all the colorful Suggi pictures in the local paper. Karavali Munjaavu was the local Times of India back then. From jaatre mithai wrapping to the District Collector’s table, that newspaper went everywhere. It carried more than news; it carried proof that something beautiful was happening outside our homes.

I miss all of this now, but thanks to social media, content creators, and photographers, I get to watch karadis, Suggi, and Holi in cinematic shots. Still, deep inside, I miss hearing the bell sounds the karadis had around their necks. That sound was an announcement that joy had arrived at your street corner.

Karadi vesha literally means "bear costume," where people dress up like wild bears using handmade costumes and handmade masks. They tie bells around their waist and neck, and dance to whistles while moving through villages. Local people believed karadis to ward off evil and bring prosperity. And they celebrate this every year. Though I do not fully know the tradition and context behind it, as a little girl I was always awestruck by the huge statures of these wild human bears. They looked like monsters walking into town, like fairytales that forgot they were supposed to stay in books.

Though I am not native to Ankola, I spent so many years there that my memories have rented permanent rooms in that place. The kid in me still craves to see those regional festivities, the colors, the bell sounds, the dust in the air, the slow magic of community. Nostalgia at its peak!!!!

Right now, I am tied up with so many things that my fingers aren't enough to keep track of them. I better go and check things off my to-do list. The next time we meet, tell me what are you up to and tell me a childhood memory you'll look back on and smile at!