Krishna grew up in Nandgaon. Radha, the one he loved, lived in Barsana. Legend has it that one day, he came to tease her with his friends, splashing her with colors uninvited. Radha and her companions, rather than submit, chased him away with sticks—a gesture that became ritual, reenacted every year for centuries.
Lathmar takes place over two days, in two villages:
- In Barsana, the men of Nandgaon arrive as somewhat daring pilgrims, protected by leather shields. The women of Barsana greet them with lathis—long wooden sticks—and drive them back with laughter. Any man who gets caught is dressed as a woman and must dance before the crowd.
- The next day, in Nandgaon, the roles reverse in their geography but not in their mechanics: this time it’s the men of Barsana who travel, and the women of Nandgaon who await them, sticks in hand.
In both cases, it’s always the women who strike, and the men who take the blows, laughing, singing, trying to dodge the hits. A temporary and joyful reversal of power dynamics, rooted as much in myth as in celebration.
Around this ritual game, one finds everything that makes Holi elsewhere—the music, the thandai, the clouds of powder—but with a particular intensity and gravity, carried by the proximity of the temples and by crowds sometimes difficult to contain, to the point that the local police don’t hesitate to bring out their sticks as well to maintain order.
