We Need to Hear This Story about Holi Now More Than Ever

Holika and the Connection that Transcends

I was thinking back to a conversation about a blog titled “The Currency of Our Souls,” an idea often shared by Big Five. It speaks to the notion that we don’t truly measure a journey in miles traveled, but rather in the depth of the stories and experiences we bring home. It made me ask do we really understand the true meaning of Holi? Do we know what it actually feels like to stand in the middle of it?

In the West, Holi is known as the “festival of colors,” a convenient photo op. Yet when we look at it through a deeper lens, the one that seeks the road less traveled, Holi reveals itself as something far more profound. It is the very definition of emotional intelligence.

Growing up, there was always this sense that the world had rigid lines. Rich and poor, resident and guest, sacred and profane, good and evil. Based on current events at the time of this publishing, it seems those rigid lines are darker and more defined. As we Indians celebrated Holi this week, those defined boxes that try to paralyze us were at the top of my mind. You see, Holi is the day India decides those lines no longer exist. When the first handful of paint hits you, it’s not just powder; it’s an invitation to shed your ego. As the bright colors blur every face into a singular, vibrant canvas, you realize that under the pigment, we are all chasing the same light.

The story really begins the night before, with traditional bonfires which still happen in the interior communities, like the village in Gujarat my family comes from. Standing there, watching the sparks drift toward the stars, you feel the weight of the past year burning away, along with any worries you have that induce manufactured stress. It’s a purification. that moment where the old self stops and the new journey begins. From the spiritual essence of Holi, we have to look past the colors and into the fire. See India’s spirituality is much more than a puja on the banks of the River Ganges, it is a rebirth of who we are as beings.

At the heart of the festival lies the story of Devi Holika and the young prince, Prahlad – a powerful allegory of the inner struggle between ego and the divine. It tells of the power-hungry king Hiranyakashipu, who demanded the world to worship him as a god vs. his son, Prahlad, who remained unwavering in his devotion to Lord Vishnu. (Anyone who has visited Angkor Wat may recall that this magnificent 12th-century temple was originally dedicated to Vishnu.) Infuriated by this “rebellion” of faith, the king turned to his sister, Holika (the Devi from whom the festival takes its name). Holika possessed a mystical cloth that made her immune to fire.

The plan was simple and cruel: she would sit in a roaring bonfire with Prahlad on her lap, ensuring the boy’s demise while she remained untouched. As the flames rose, a miracle occurred. The cloth that protected Holika, flew off her shoulders and draped itself over the innocent Prahlad. Holika, despite her divine gift, was consumed by the flames, while Prahlad emerged from the ash unscathed, chanting the name of the Divine. This is a powerful lesson about faith and humility is it not? Almost every elder grandparent told a version of this to their grandchildren as my grandmother told me when I visited her in Sudan as a child.

Back to the festival. By the next morning, the streets are a riot of “Bura na mano, Holi hai” – a phrase that translates to “don’t be offended,” but really means “let go.” You don’t have to be Indian to know what this feels like. Imagine any of your travels, perhaps a journey you are on right now. You are in a small village where a group of children, laughing with a kind of pure, unadulterated joy, turn your clean freshly laundered and pressed clothes into a map of their own happiness. In that moment, you are not a traveler observing a culture. You are part of the story.

We in the travel industry know that travel, at its best, is about these “out-of-the-box” solutions for the human spirit. Holi isn’t just a celebration of spring; it’s a celebration of the fact that, regardless of where we come from, we all have the capacity to be painted by joy. Something I think the world needs to understand now more than ever.