There was always something going on in our street. Whenever we heard a band we raced to the balcony to see the latest offering. Once again the bandsmen in white uniforms were marching or shambling up our street. With drums, bugles, tubas and cymbals they were in full discordant form, encouraged by their dark suited musical director waving his trumpet.

Statues of Shiva, bedecked with garlands, tinsel and bunting moved slowly behind in an open backed truck. The noisy generator towed behind provided power for the ten huge chandelier lights held aloft by uniformed bearers flanking the Shiva tableaux.

Dancing and cavorting adherents gambolled behind, watched patiently by two brightly painted elephants slowly lumbering along, bearing golden howdahs and parasols.

The next band wore red uniforms and were distracted by motorbikes trying to progress up the crowded street. They in turn were weaving to avoid kids rushing to catch sweets scattered from a large trailer also bearing an effigy of Lord Shiva, pulled by a tractor.

As twilight descended the lamp bearers came into their element. Gleaming shafts of light caught the excited expressions of adults and children alike, as small snacks were distributed from other canopied carts hauled by large white bullocks with long horns. The atmosphere was electric. Surging crowds pressed in on a phalanx of eight white camels draped in richly ornamented blankets with swinging tassels.

From a carriage drawn by four magnificent white horses more goodies were thrown to the swelling crowd.

The procession took hours to slowly parade past our balcony.  Bands stopped and went through their repertoire. Camels snorted, horses nodded their heads and elephants grabbed high leaves with their trunks.

To the music of many marching bands and the cheer and clapping of excited people dancers on slowly moving flat bed trucks performed traditional temple dances. Huge fantastic shadows were thrown onto the walls of adjacent buildings expanding the whole extravaganza from glittering street levels to the very tops of the surrounding buildings.  

As the last stragglers danced from the scene fireworks blossomed in the night sky in a glittering display of sparks and colours that mirrored the spectacular parade that had just reached the temple.

Days before, market stalls were selling packets of bright coloured powders. More upmarket shops extolled the virtues of organic vegetable derived powders, guaranteed not to stain clothes. Kids roamed around the litter strewn alleys and back lanes tentatively trying out their new water pistols. Panic stricken cats rushed for cover whilst somnolent dogs escaping the Delhi heat in deep shadows just shook the droplets off their heads.

Holi is the Hindu Spring festival when bright colours were traditionally smeared on the faces of worshipers at temples. Somehow this lovely tradition has mutated into an exuberant free for all where anyone and everyone can be liberally coated in vibrant colours.

It is a happy day, one of community celebration and family togetherness. In some communities coloured water is sprinkled or poured on friends and neighbours. In other places colourful petals are gracefully bestowed on the heads of smiling passers by.

Apart from watching all the fun and hilarity we had friends around to scoff cakes adorned with Holi coloured icing.

Lajpat Nagar, our neighbourhood, was alive with gleeful families scattering coloured powder on each other, throwing water on arriving family members and even passing cyclists. The kids emerged from the back alleys, now with free licence to demonstrate their finely honed skills at showering grinning rickshaw peddlers with streams of cooling water.

Have a look at the pictures

The distant cheer increased in volume until the spectators around us rose to applaud the smart mounted squadron of turbaned Sikh horse guards trotting by with banners flying from their lances. Resplendent in blue tunics and highly polished knee boots they formed the honour guard for the President of India.  The arrival of the President signalled the beginning of the Indian Republic Day parade, one of the most spectacular events held in Delhi.

Working for the Indian Government we were invited by the Ministry of Defence to sit in the civil servants spectator enclosure to enjoy this annual celebration of military might. Soon we were tapping our feet and clapping our hands to the military bands marching down Raj Path, the massive, wide and stately boulevard that links the old British Secretariat Buildings with India Gate. Mounted on ambling camels the Rajasthan Regiment’s full silver band could not fail to engender an enthusiastic response.

Between the bands came phalanxes of immaculate marching troops twelve across. Each regiment wore distinctive colourful headgear such as yellow and red turbans shaped into high vertical fans. Wild cheering from our otherwise conservative colleagues was reserved for those regiments who had performed well in border clashes with Pakistan and China. It reminded us that the Indian forces were very much on active service.  Indian designed and manufactured tanks rumbled down Raj Path, dipping their barrels in salute to the President and the Chiefs of Staff. These were followed by home produced long range missiles. Our friendly companions pointed with pride to the new Indian jet fighter plane mounted on a display truck. Then overhead Indian Air Force jaguar planes roared in formation followed by bigger transport and refuelling planes.

Our only disappointment was that elephants were missing from this years’ parade. Too dangerous apparently. This was made up for by colourful and imaginative floats from each of the States. The organisers were trying to get away from an overtly militaristic theme by introducing more civilian elements.  The closing note was the national anthem sung with gusto and the release of thousands of red, white and green balloons, the national colours.  

A couple of days later came the Beating the Retreat Ceremony. Held at the imposing Secretariat Buildings at sunset it was an impressive occasion. Massed pipes and drums of the Indian Army with tartan uniforms marched down the central avenue to perform before an invited audience. Silhouetted against the ramparts camel mounted trumpeters serenaded the crowd. Finally the pipes played ‘abide with me’ as the flag was lowered. At the last glimmer of light and the final note of the ‘Last Post’ the monumental buildings, copulas, domes and spires were picked out in millions of white bulbs to transform the scene into an awe inspiring spectacle we will never forget.