In India, Holi arrives like an overenthusiastic cousin—loud, messy and completely unavoidable. There’s no escape. You could be minding your business, enjoying chai on your balcony, and—BAM!—someone launches a water balloon at you like they’re training for the IPL.
But when you move abroad, especially to a place like Sweden, Holi doesn’t just happen to you. You have to schedule it like an important business meeting. And because adult life is a never-ending avalanche of deadlines, taxes, and existential crises, Holi never actually lands on Holi. 😎
So, instead of celebrating on the actual day, we do what every desi expat has mastered—the art of celebrating weekend holidays (because in the world of desi expats, weekends are the only dates that matter 😊).
From a Rainbow to Routine: The Only Colors I See in Sweden are on My Caffeine-Fueled Calendar
I used to live for Holi—the vibrant festival of colors, the endless laughter, the feeling of being covered head-to-toe in a rainbow of powders 🌈💥. Growing up in India, Holi was the day when the world was painted in hues of joy 🌺, when the air was thick with laughter, water balloons 💦, and music 🎶.
In India, Holi wasn’t just a festival; it was THE event 🎉. I remember the streets buzzing with energy ⚡, neighbors and friends dousing each other with colors that could rival the entire Pantone palette. It was an explosion of happiness 💥, a visual representation of what it felt like to be truly free 🕺💃. No rules, no inhibitions—just joy in its purest form. 🙌
But now, living in Sweden my world feels like one big grayscale puzzle 🧩. And guess what? The only colors I see these days are the ones I’ve painstakingly added to my caffeine-fueled calendar ☕📅. Yes, my calendar. The place where my dreams of a colorful life now reside.
In Sweden, suddenly, life feels like someone decided to drain the colors from the world 🌍 and replace them with… well, snow ❄️. As the long, dark winter stretches on 🕰️, I find myself reaching for my calendar in search of some semblance of excitement 🎯. But the only “bright spots” in my life are the reminders I’ve scribbled in rainbow-colored pens ✒️—meetings, deadlines, and the occasional coffee break ☕. It’s like my entire existence has turned into a series of grey blocks 📊 with a splash of pastel highlighters 🖍️.
The worst part? The winter blues 💙 hit harder than the splash of color that should’ve been thrown at my face on Holi 🎉. And there’s no amount of coffee ☕ that can seem to perk me up!
The Vibrant Chaos I Miss vs. The “Minimalist” Swedish Palette
Once upon a time, Holi meant waking up to the sound of dhol 🥁, dodging surprise attacks from color-smeared hooligans (a.k.a. my friends) 💥, and embracing the inevitable masterpiece my white kurta was about to become, painted in a symphony of colors. 🎨. Fast forward to my life in Sweden:
Wake up. No dhol. Just a phone alarm aggressively screaming, “Meeting in 30 minutes” 📲.
And Holi now means… checking my Google Calendar 📅, which—brace yourself—is color-coded 🌈. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the only colors I see these days are not gulal but Outlook reminders screaming, “Deadline: 3 PM (Urgent!)” in aggressive red 🟥.
This is my life now. I used to dodge water balloons 💦; now I dodge emails 📧.
Instead of throwing colors 💥, I throw passive-aggressive Teams messages 💻.
The only thing that might hit me unexpectedly is an Outlook mail notification 📬.
And yet, there is more to this day….
Chaos – Holiday vs. Working Day Balance
The actual Holi day in Sweden passes quietly. No colors in the streets 🌈, no Bollywood music blasting from rooftops 🎶, no sneaky water balloon attacks 💦. Just work, grocery shopping 🛒, and Swedes going about their day in calm, monochrome peace 🖤🤍.
But behind the scenes, something is brewing…
My family group chat is exploding 💥 with blurry pictures of color-drenched relatives, homemade sweets and my uncle’s terrible dance moves. The captions are variations of:
🟢 Happy Holi from India! 🎉
🔴 Missing you beta, wish you were here! 😢
🔵 Come home next year? ✈️
So, as I sip my fifth cup of coffee ☕ this morning and look at my vibrant calendar 📅, I remind myself that maybe, just maybe, the colors don’t need to come from the outside world 🌍. Sometimes, they can come from within. Amidst the overwhelming feelings 😅, an idea struck: ‘How about a virtual family Holi?’ And so I made the biggest mistake of celebrating digital Holi 📲.
Now, the digital age brings its own kind of chaos 🌀. Picture this: virtual Holi celebrations with people screaming from ten different screens💻. My phone’s pinging 📲 with suggestions from relatives on how to enjoy Holi, interspersed with wisdom from older generations reminding us that we must adjust and be happy with what we have.
Somehow, this digital Holi bangs louder than the dhol blaring in the streets back home. It’s like a Bollywood dance sequence 💃🕺… except everyone’s in their own homes 🏡, balancing screens while debating whether or not their cameras are on.
Traditions in the digital age—can’t make this up! 😂
Tale of Broken Dreams and Bland Snacks
Holi isn’t just about colors—it’s about food. And if you grew up in India, you know what I’m talking about.
Gujiyas so crispy they make a satisfying crunch when you bite into them. Thandai so perfectly spiced that one sip can erase all your life problems (or at least make you temporarily forget them). Piping hot pakoras magically appearing in front of you because some auntie is on a frying spree.
But as an expat? My Holi food dreams have been completely, brutally shattered.
Expectation vs. Reality: The Food Edition
🟢 Expectation: A table full of gujiyas, thandai, and snacks so oily they’d make a dietitian faint.
🔴 Reality: A sad tray of Swedish cinnamon buns someone brought “to add a local touch.”
🟢 Expectation: Homemade dahi vadas, soaked to perfection.
🔴 Reality: Store-bought hummus because “It’s kind of like chutney, right?”
🟢 Expectation: Freshly fried samosas, perfectly golden and crispy.
🔴 Reality: Air-fried spring rolls from a frozen pack because “same thing only, Hmm?”
Survival of the Festival-Adjusting Expats
Picture a dramatic comparison 🎭: What you thought Holi would be like with fellow Indians abroad (massive Bollywood-style Holi rave with DJs, unlimited thandai 🍹, and laughter) vs. what it actually is (3 people throwing eco-friendly powder at each other inside a cramped apartment 🏠 while a Bluetooth speaker struggles to play “Balam Pichkari” 🎧).
Back in India, Holi is an automatic event. It’s chaos on time ⏰. There is no need to “plan” Holi—Holi happens to you. But abroad, we operate differently. Festivals are not just celebrations 🎉, they are a mission 🚀, a rebellion ✊, a determined refusal to let routine kill joy 🥳.
Holi isn’t on the Swedish calendar 🗓️, but for the Desi expat community, that has never been an excuse to let a good festival go uncelebrated 🚫. We are masters of festive time-travel ⏳—celebrating Diwali in late November because the venue wasn’t available in October, postponing Garba until someone finds a school gym 🏫, and once, throwing an Independence Day Coloring competition in September because, well… 🎨💥
The expat community has collectively agreed that weekends are the only time festivals can exist —because between Monday and Friday, adulthood swallows us whole 📅.
Sure, we will celebrate on weekends 🗓️ or sometimes even weeks later ⏰. Sure, we had to negotiate aggressively to find a venue 🏟️. But being an expat means learning to adapt 🤹♀️.
Final Thoughts (aka The “Moral of the Story” If I Had One)
So, if you ever find yourself feeling a little down about missing Holi, just remember:
💡 You don’t need an exact date to celebrate something that matters.
💡 You don’t need a perfect setting to feel at home.
💡 You just need people who will show up, throw some colors 🎨and make an absolute mess of things 🤪.
And if you happen to be in Sweden around any random weekend next spring 🌸, check your Facebook group or WhatsApp messages 📲.
Somewhere, in a secret location 🕵️♀️, a bunch of overworked desis will be planning Holi—and trust me, you’re always invited 🎉!