The Colour on Radha's Face

It was the end of winter in Nandgaon, and the mustard was yellow in the fields. Krishna came home from the pastures in a temper and sat down in front of his mother without a word.

"What is it now?" asked Yashoda.

"Why is Radha so fair," he said, "and why am I so dark?"

Yashoda looked at her son, who was the colour of a rain cloud, and tried not to laugh. She had heard the gopis of Barsana teasing him about it at the well.

"Is that all?" she said. "If it troubles you so much, go and put some colour on her face. Then you can see whether it suits her."

Krishna stopped sulking at once. He went out and called the cowherd boys together, his brother Balarama, Shridama, Madhumangal and the rest, and that evening they ground colours: red from the flowers of the palash tree, yellow from turmeric, green from leaves. They filled bamboo syringes with coloured water and tied the dry powder in the ends of their cloths.

Next morning they walked the few miles to Barsana, where Radha lived with her father Vrishabhanu, and came in quietly through the narrow lanes.

Radha was sitting with her friends Lalita and Vishakha in the courtyard. They had just finished bathing and dressing for the day.

"There he is," said Lalita. "The thief from Nandgaon. And he has brought his whole gang."

Before Radha could stand up Krishna had his hands on her cheeks, and they were red. The boys shot coloured water over the walls. In a moment every girl in the house was pink and yellow and green, and so was the washing.

Radha wiped her eyes. "Is this what your mother taught you?"

"My mother told me to do it," said Krishna, and threw another fistful.

The noise brought out the older women of Barsana. They took one look at the courtyard and went for the long bamboo sticks they used to drive the cattle.

"Out!" they shouted. "Out of our village, the lot of you!"

The boys ran, laughing, with their cloths held over their heads, and the sticks came down on the cloths. Krishna ran last, singing the rudest songs he knew so that the women would chase him further.

The next day the girls of Barsana came to Nandgaon. They walked in through Nanda's gate with pots of coloured water, and Krishna and his friends were caught asleep. Yashoda stood in the doorway and did not lift a finger to save them.

So in Braj, a week before Holi, the men of Nandgaon still come to Barsana with colours, and the women of Barsana meet them with sticks. The men hold up leather shields and sing at them. The next day the men of Barsana go to Nandgaon, and the women there are waiting with sticks of their own.

The sage Narada is telling King Bahulashva of Mithila about the gopis, and he comes to the day of Holi.

The girls of Braj went together to Radha's house in Barsana. "Radha, listen," they said. "The son of Nanda is here in your garden for Holi. His yellow silk shines on his dark body like a rainbow on a cloud, and he is soaked in rose water and saffron. He has a new syringe in his hand and he is waiting for you. Get up and leave your shyness. You wash your hands while the water is running."

Radha was shy, but she got up. With her friends round her she went out to play.

They carried pails of sandal paste mixed with musk, turmeric and saffron, and their hands were red with it. They sang teasing Holi songs at each other and threw scented powder in fistfuls, until the ground, the sky and everyone's clothes had turned red.

Then they found Krishna and surrounded him, the way rainbows stand round a monsoon cloud. First they rubbed colour on his face. Then they poured coloured water over him, and at last, as the custom is, they emptied whole pails of saffron water on his head.

There were many girls and only one Krishna, so he became as many Krishnas as there were girls, and played with each of them. In the middle of it all Radha drew the black kohl of her own eyes across his. He gave the gopis his scarf.

Then he went home to Nanda's house, and the gods dropped flowers on him all the way.