May this spring arrive softly,
colours of joy blooming like a gentle heart.
May a beautiful story find its path,
meeting you where you are.
Happy Holi.
For a long time, I did not like Holi, the colourful celebration part at least.
I loved the story of it. The mythology. The symbolism of winter dissolving into spring. But not the way I experienced it growing up. Thick, wet colour pastes, smeared without consent, leaving skin and clothes stained for days. I stayed in my room, avoiding the era of phrases like “Bura na mano, Holi hai.” A saying that probably meant to indicate innocent mischief but had, over time, become justification for overstepping.
Thankfully, cultures are not static. They evolve. And we evolve with them.
My relationship with Holi shifted in the most unexpected way - at a celebration with my child’s playgroup, held inside a church ground, of all places. A few Indian mums had taken the initiative, rest of the group embraced it quickly, and what unfolded was nothing like what I had remembered.
Amid clouds of soft, organic powdered colours, water guns, and the giggles of toddlers, I fell in love with Holi celebration for the first time. Parents and children of all shades became the same - colourful. We exchanged plates of homemade food and answered questions about the celebration. And somewhere between laughter and explanation, I began re-examining the narratives myself.
Something shifted in me after that.
The following year, we travelled to India with our little one specifically to celebrate Holi with our families. I braced myself for the old version, but what we found instead was pleasantly different. Celebrations within residential compounds felt safer, more mindful. People asked before applying colours. Dry, skin-friendly powders were more common. Water guns were used simply for water and mostly by children. Boundaries were acknowledged, and opting out was normalised.
The festival had evolved. Or perhaps I had found the spaces where it had.
Suddenly, Holi became my second favourite festival. (Diwali still holds first place.)
Over the years, we’ve celebrated it more and more. With playgroups, at organised community events, at friends’ home as impromptu party, and with family on carefully timed trips back to India. Each time, I still brace myself for chaos, but with each experience the intensity of it becomes little less, softened by each beautiful experience.
This is the Holi experience that inspired Gullal.
Not the heavy, syrupy, indulgent stereotype of “Indian festivity.”
Not something ornate or overwhelming.
Gullal is a gentle burst.
A bright exhale.
A cloud of colour suspended in spring air.
Uplifting and grounding all the same.
Divers notes dissolving into one simple accord of bliss.
So much of how the world has come to understand Indian festivals has been shaped by colonial lenses - exotic, excessive, chaotic. But traditions and cultures are living things. They adapt organically, hold multitudes and evolve with our understanding of changing times.
Gullal is about celebration of Holi and the story behind it, but it is also about cherishing what I discovered - the unusual freedom of a little messy fun. The freedom to laugh, to let colour touch your skin, and to participate without anxiety.
Turning this into a fragrance is perhaps also an attempt at capturing the rediscovery of joy. The kind you may have forgotten along the way, or perhaps never allowed yourself to feel before.
This, I hope and believe, is what growing up with our traditions is meant to look like. Not abandoning them, not romanticising them blindly, but rather choosing how we participate. Choosing the version that aligns with who we are becoming and who we wish to be.
This Holi, we wish that your joy feel chosen.
May you find your safe space,
and allow yourself to be drenched in delight, even if briefly. ✨
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