Sapphire blue, emerald green, fuchsia pink, and golden yellow—clouds of colour swirl through the air as laughter echoes in the streets. Hands reach out, smearing faces with powdered hues, while bursts of liquid dye arc through the sky from playful squirt guns. The air is thick with music, joy, and the scent of spring.

This is Holi—the festival of colours, a celebration that transforms cities and villages across India into living, breathing canvases of riotous hues.

The annual festival that typically falls in March, marks the arrival of spring in India. It is a time of renewal, joy, and togetherness, where social boundaries dissolve in a haze of colour and revelry.

The festival has deep roots in Hindu tradition, particularly among devotees of Vishnu, also known as Krishna. According to legend, Krishna ushered in the season by playfully showering his beloved Radha and her companions, the Gopis, with colour in the sacred lands of Vrindavan and Mathura—an act of love and divine mischief that is re-enacted to this day.

As spring sets in, nature, too, joins the celebration. Through the haze of Mumbai smog, Flame of the Forest trees erupt into fiery red blossoms, while in the surrounding streets Holi is played with family, friends, and often even strangers—as dusts of vibrant colour are sprinkled on loved ones.

Bridging cultures

Yet at one point in history, Holi was more than just a Hindu festival; it was a symbol of joyous inclusivity, splashing even the Mughal world with its brilliant hues.

This evocative couplet, attributed to the 14^th-century mystic, poet and scholar, Amir Khusrau, captures the essence of Holi:

O mother it’s the day of colour today
It’s such a day of colours at my beloved’s

Khusrau, the Muslim mystic and devoted disciple of the Sufi saint Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya, who lived in the times of Delhi Sultanate, represented a syncretic tradition where diverse cultures merged. Even today, Nizamuddin’s dargah (shrine) in Delhi remains a site of such pluralism, where Holi and Basant, another spring festival, are celebrated annually. 

This spirit of religious harmony was further embodied centuries later by Mughal Emperor Abu'l-Fath Jalal-ud-din Muhammad Akbar, more popularly known as Akbar. He would take the celebration to new heights, embracing festivities beyond his Muslim faith. Akbar’s court became a melting pot of diverse influences, where people of various beliefs coexisted.

Historian Ali Nadeem Rezavi, in his essay The Dynamics of Composite Culture, notes how professional classes and noble families lived in close quarters regardless of their religion. He mentions the friendship of Surat Singh, a Hindu revenue officer and Abdul Karim, a Muslim scholar – lifelong neighbours in Lahore embodying the spirit of Hindu-Muslim unity.

“The houses of Hindu and Muslim nobles were close to each other,” writes Rezavi, “this inter-mixing of various religions in the same neighbourhood was not confined only to professional and mercantile classes.”

Living close to each other was not an exception but an accepted pattern in Mughal urban centres such as Delhi, Agra, Surat, Lahore, Banaras, and Kabul. The imperial palace stood at the heart of this coexistence, where Hindu and Jain practices, including Holi, were welcomed.

Holi’s Mughal revival

Akbar is considered by some as the architect for India’s social cohesion. He did it all; from entering into marital alliances with daughters of his Rajput caste chieftains who were Hindu, to being initiated into Jain practices of venerating the Sun God, and reciting 1,000 hymns at daybreak. Akbar would encourage his wives of other faiths to observe their festivities like Holi and Diwali, even turning the court’s room for religious dialogue, the ibadaatkhanah, into an open space for all religious debates.

One of Akbar’s wives, later known as Mariam-uz-Zamani, was born a Hindu Rajput princess. By her orders Holi was played within the imperial palace. With the emperor himself participating in the festivities, these customs soon spread beyond the palace walls, embraced by both elites and commoners alike.

Under the Mughals, Holi was not just a Hindu festival—it took on a Persianate identity and became known as Eid-e-Gulabi (The Festival of Roses). The term gulabi refers not to roses themselves but to the delicate shades of pink pigment—reminiscent of rose hues—that were often used in Holi celebrations.

As historian Audrey Truschke explains in her book Culture of Encounters- Sanskrit at The Mughal Court: “The Mughals cultivated a thoroughly multicultural and multilingual imperial image that involved repeated attention to Sanskrit texts, intellectuals and knowledge systems.”

The elites and nobles on the other hand learnt ways of Islamic education by learning Persian like Suraj Singh or more prominently Chandra Bhan the imperial secretary of another emperor, Shah Jahan, who wrote poems in Persian.

The seeds of cross-pollination were planted in more than one sphere, observing Holi was one thing, Diwali was an extension of this narrative.

Splashing colours

Capturing this spirit of boundaryless religious unity, Jesuit priest Antonio Monserrate, who visited Akbar’s court at Fatehpur Sikri in the late 16th century, vividly described Holi in his work The Commentarius as a festival of unrestrained joy, where revellers drenched each other in splashes of red dye and even “plastered mud” on one another.

Akbar's son, Jahangir, who would later himself become Emperor, documented the festival in his autobiography Tuzuk-e-Jahangiri, noting the grandeur of Holi celebrations by Hindus across the empire: “Their day is Holi, which in their belief is the last day of the year. This day falls in the month of Isfandarmudh, when the sun is in Pisces. On the eve of this day they light fires in all the lanes and streets. When it is daylight, they spray powder on each other’s heads and faces for one watch and create an amazing uproar. After that, they wash themselves, put their clothes on, and go to gardens and fields.”

It was at a time when mehfils, or musical gatherings, arranged in Mughal courts to mark the festival, would fill the air. Rezavi in his essay notes: “Surat Singh describes a poetical session which he attended in that city [Agra] during the reign of Shah Jahan. In the mushaira [poetry recital], an equal number of Hindu and Muslim poets of that period are described.”

Keeping records

With time, written documentation of imperial Holi celebrations reduced, replaced by Mughal miniature paintings which were canvas to document emperors partaking in the festivities.

Rich in their visual narrative, these artworks became important in understanding the grandeur of celebrations at the Mughal court. They captured scenes of rulers participating in Holi in the open space of the palace interior or zenana mahal, surrounded by musicians, courtesans and noblewomen, drenched in colour, embodying the vibrancy of the festival. 

These Holi themed artworks, mehfils, mushairas and poetic works offer a window into Mughal cosmopolitanism and its transcultural tryst, a signature of Indo-Persian times until the more conservative Aurangzeb’s reign (1658 - 1707) saw a departure from such public revelry.

It was the rulers who came after, like Muhammad Shah Rangeela (1719 - 1748), who revived Holi traditions with even greater extravagance. His nickname, Rangeela, meaning "flashy" or "flamboyant," reflected his deep love for arts and culture. Unlike a ruler driven by military ambition, Muhammad Shah was a patron of music, poetry, and the finer aspects of cultural life—earning him this distinctive title.

By the time Bahadur Shah Zafar (1837–1857), the last Mughal emperor, ascended the throne, the empire was already in decline. Yet beyond his imperial title, Zafar is remembered as a notable Urdu poet of the Indian subcontinent. A soulful ruler and a lover of the arts, he cherished Holi, which continued to be celebrated with great enthusiasm at his imperial residence, Qila-e-Moalla (The Exalted Palace), now known as the Red Fort in Old Delhi.

During Zafar’s brief rule, Holi even acquired another poetic name—Aab-e-Pashi (Shower of Colorful Flowers)—in addition to Eid-e-Gulabi, reflecting its deep cultural significance. Delhi took on a grand festive look, with mobile entertainers and courtesans performing for days, while fairs and carnivals lined the banks of the Yamuna River.

Zafar himself commemorated Holi through poetry, writing:

Why drench me with squirts of color?
Watch out, my prince—I’ll swear at you!

This playful verse captures both the lighthearted spirit of Holi and Zafar’s poetic wit, offering a glimpse into the festival’s enduring presence even in times of decline.

Fragmented colours

The reality of today, however, is starkly different.

In recent decades, the identity of India—the world’s most populous country—has undergone significant changes, with religious identity emerging as a dominant marker.

Historical events, such as the Babri Masjid incident and various incidents of communal strife have fractured the once-strong Hindu-Muslim unity. As a result, there has been a growing reluctance within both communities to intermingle, leading to a revival of conservatism. The camaraderie that defined social life in the early decades post-independence has weathered over time.

Though large-scale Muslim participation in Holi has diminished, echoes of the festival can still be found at Sufi shrines like Nizamuddin Dargah in Delhi and Dewa Sharif in Barabanki—reminders of a forgotten era when people, regardless of faith, could spread colours without hesitation.