Fire, Filters & Forever Colours

- Ravi Ila Bhatt

“Guys, 7:30 PM sharp for Holika Dahan. Don’t be late. And wear something cute—we’re taking pictures,” Rhea typed in the society group chat.

Holi in their Mumbai housing complex was always a big deal. But for Rhea and her gang—Ayaan, Kiara, Dev, and Mehul—it was also prime content season. Reels, transitions, slow-mo colour throws—everything had to be planned.

That evening, the society garden glowed under fairy lights. In the center stood the Holika pyre—wood neatly stacked, decorated with marigold flowers and coconut offerings. Elders moved around, explaining rituals to younger kids. The priest prepared for the puja.

Ayaan adjusted his jacket. “Okay guys, we’ll shoot one transition before the fire is lit. Serious faces first, then smile when the flames rise.”

Kiara rolled her eyes. “Bro, it’s not a music video.”

As the sun dipped, everyone gathered around. The priest narrated the story of Prahlad and Holika—how arrogance and evil were destroyed by faith and truth.

Rhea half-listened while checking angles on her phone. But then Mrs. Iyer, their society secretary, spoke up after the aarti.

“Every year we burn Holika,” she said gently, “but have you ever thought about what your Holika is? What negativity do you want to burn?”

The question hung in the air.

Dev smirked. “I’d burn my math syllabus.”

Everyone laughed.

But Ayaan went quiet.

He had been pretending to be confident all year—posting gym selfies, acting cool—but inside he constantly compared himself to others. Followers, marks, looks, popularity. It was exhausting.

As the fire was lit, flames rose high, crackling against the night sky. The warmth touched their faces.

Mrs. Iyer placed a small basket nearby. “Write one bad habit, fear, or negative thought on paper. Offer it to the fire. Start fresh tomorrow.”

The teens exchanged glances.

“This is actually… kinda deep,” Kiara said softly.

One by one, they scribbled.

Rhea wrote: ‘Seeking validation online.’

Dev wrote: ‘Procrastination.’

Kiara wrote: ‘Body insecurity.’

Ayaan hesitated, then wrote: ‘Comparing myself to everyone.’

They folded the papers and, together, placed them into the fire.

For a moment, no one recorded anything. No filters. No poses. Just silence, firelight, and reflection.

The next morning, Holi exploded with colours. The DJ blasted remixes, water guns sprayed from balconies, and eco-friendly gulal filled the air. But something felt different.

When someone accidentally stained Rhea’s carefully chosen white kurta too early, she didn’t panic about pictures. She laughed.

When Ayaan’s reel didn’t upload due to poor network, he shrugged and joined the dance circle instead.

Their final post that night wasn’t glamorous. It was a simple group photo near the ashes of last night’s Holika.

Caption is “Burn the negativity. Keep the colours. ???? #HolikaDahan #NewVibesOnly”

It didn’t go viral. But their smiles were real. Because they finally understood—

Holi isn’t just about throwing colours. Holika Dahan isn’t just about lighting a fire. It’s about burning ego, comparison, jealousy, and fear. It’s about stepping into the new year lighter, brighter, and kinder.

And in a world full of highlights and hashtags, sometimes the most powerful glow-up begins within.

Moral : Don’t just celebrate festivals for content. Use them as moments to reset, reflect, and remove negativity from your life. Real transformation is the best trend you’ll ever follow.