XPost: alt.romance, alt.guns, soc.women   
   XPost: soc.men, alt.philosophy   
   From: ibshamlat@gmail.com   
      
   Recently I read blog posts by some famous Indians about   
   their most memorable Holi festival. This led me to   
   remember my last Holi. Before narrating my tale let me   
   tell you a little about the background of holi   
   festival. The colorful festival of Holi is celebrated   
   in most parts of India during February-March. On the   
   day of the Holi men and women, irrespective of caste   
   and creed mingle together and exchange colors. A lot of   
   hooliganism is displayed in the name of fun. The   
   celebrations can get wild and rowdy -- it is one of the   
   few occasions of the year that the sexes are allowed to   
   mix freely.   
      
   Holi derives its name from the she-demon Holika who was   
   the sister of Hiranyakashipu, the king of the demons.   
   His son Prahlad was a religious person devoted to god   
   Vishnu. After attempts to convert Prahlad to the ways   
   of the demons failed, Hiranyakashipu decided to have   
   him killed. It was decided that Holika would take her   
   nephew and enter a burning pyre.   
      
   She would use her magical skills to protect her, but   
   Prahlad would be burnt alive. But who can harm the one   
   who the gods protect. The reverse happened. Holika was   
   burnt to death and Prahlad emerged from the flames   
   unscathed. Holi is thus celebrated to commemorate the   
   death of the evil aunt, after whom the festival is   
   named, and the new life granted to Prahlad for his   
   devotion and faith. To this day, cow dung is hurled   
   into the fire and obscenities are shouted at the Holi   
   fire at some places to insult Holika.   
      
   In past I celebrated Holi with my friends, and had a   
   party in the evening. I loved playing the wild Holi,   
   but I was a bit careful last year. The last year was   
   different for me in more ways than one.   
      
   Last year I left my teens and my home too. I was an   
   only son of my parents but then my mother died and soon   
   my father decided to remarry. There were exchange of   
   hot words between my father and me on the issue of his   
   remarriage and in the end the dirty old man asked me to   
   leave his house. In anger I immediately did that and   
   went to live with my maternal grandparents. They were   
   kind rough to accept me as a member of family.   
      
   My grandparents had a small two storey house, where   
   they were living with one of their married son and a   
   divorced daughter. Their son that is my Uncle Suresh   
   lived with his wife and two children on the upper   
   portion of the house while my grandparents lived in the   
   lower portion along with their daughter whom I called   
   Aunt Rakhi.   
      
   I was given a small room to live in the lower portion   
   but whenever some guests came to stay for a while, I   
   was asked to sleep in my aunt's room. My Aunt Rakhi was   
   around 44. She had lost some weight since the last time   
   I had seen her though she still had a few extra pounds   
   to lose. For a 44 years old woman she wasn't bad   
   looking.   
      
   She was a working woman so she had to carry herself   
   well. There were two or three age lines in her face but   
   she still looked hot. Her figure is well maintained but   
   her real beauty was in her boobs. They were not very   
   big but they were not small either. The most important   
   thing was that they were not loose as per her age. She   
   had a beautiful round ass too and while she walked   
   wearing a sari fitting tight on her, the motion of her   
   ass could make dead men blinking. She had long   
   beautiful hairs. Earlier they were black but as some of   
   her hairs became white she started dying them cooper   
   red . The color added more beauty to her hairs. When   
   her untied hairs swung in the wind she looked like a   
   ... goddess.   
      
   Coming back to my last Holi I can say that it was   
   celebrated in an unholy manner. On the morning of Holi   
   my grandma woke me up and asked me to take a bath. I   
   was the last one to the bath and when I came down to   
   the breakfast table, my uncle Suresh and his wife Gita   
   aunty were there too. Uncle was wearing a t-shirt and   
   shorts but Gita aunty was wearing a green blouse and   
   green petticoat but no sari. I could easily make out   
   she was not wearing a bra and she had tied her   
   petticoat well below her naval. Her naval was oval in   
   shape and very deep. Uncle said to me, "Why haven't you   
   changed yet?"   
      
   I was staring at Gita aunty so I did not answer him.   
   Uncle shook me and repeated the question. "I am about   
   to change," I replied.   
      
   Grandfather told me, "This is your first Holi in this   
   house son, let me tell you Holi is the only festival in   
   this house where rules are relaxed, so enjoy." I didn't   
   get the full meaning of what he was saying but anyhow I   
   nodded my head.   
      
   After breakfast I entered my room for chaging the   
   dress. Aunt Rakhi followed me and said, "Remember no   
   one will be wearing under garments today" She herself   
   was wearing a red blouse and a maroon petticoat. She   
   was also not wearing any bra and her petticoat was tied   
   below her naval. Her naval was big, round and deep.   
      
   The festival started when grandma handed everyone a   
   glass of thandai (It is a drink made by mixing milk,   
   dry fruits and bhang). Everyone raised his or her glass   
   and gulped the drink. [Associated with Lord Shiva,   
   bhang is considered an official Holi drink. Culled from   
   the leaves and buds of cannabis - the very intoxicating   
   bhang helps to escalate the spirit of holi - a festival   
   which does not recognise any restrictions. Lip smacking   
   thandai, pakoras and vadas, all having bhang as a very   
   essential ingredient, are savored by all on the day.   
   Bhang was first used as an intoxicant in India around   
   1000 BC and soon became an integral part of Hindu   
   culture. There is even a belief that to meet someone   
   carrying bhang is an omen of success.]   
      
   After having our drink Uncle Suresh said to me, "We   
   will play the game the way we play it every year, the   
   women will run and hide while we men will search the   
   women and attack them with colors" I said, "sounds   
   fun." So I, grandpa, uncle and his son ran towards the   
   gate and got the buckets that also had pichkaris   
   (colour spraying pump) inside.   
      
   When I turned around I did not see any female, they all   
   disappeared. As we came near the front door the water   
   filled balloons started to fall on us. I looked up and   
   saw my uncle's daughter Nirmala doing it. We all ran   
   towards the terrace but she was not there to be found.   
   Grandpa told me to check the water tank on the roof.   
   Uncle and I climbed the tank but instead of the girl we   
   found Aunt Rakhi there. Uncle caught his sister by her   
   waist and brought her down. He made her stand in front   
   of grandpa.   
      
   "We have found our first victim," Uncle said.   
      
   Aunt Rakhi was struggling to escape but uncle caught   
   both her hands from behind. Grandfather then took a   
   pichkari, filled it with colour and sprayed the colour   
   on her body from head to her belly. To my surprise my   
   uncle took some dry colour in his hands, opened the two   
   buttons of her blouse, and inserted his hands inside.   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)