Holi, Colonialism, and the Environment: How a Nature-Centered Festival Was Transformed
This blog is a part of our 2025-2026 Climate and Cultural Heritage Series made possible by the Fletcher Center for International Environment and Resource Policy and the Fletcher Office for Inclusive Excellence.
By: Frayashti Shekhawat
Holi, today one of South Asia’s most iconic festivals, is often pictured as an explosion of color: clouds of pink and blue drifting over crowds, children laughing with water guns, and entire cities turning technicolor for a day. Yet this spectacular imagery, though central to Holi’s contemporary identity, tells only part of the story. Beneath the modern celebration lies a far older narrative, one shaped by seasonal transitions, biodiversity, agrarian life, and deeply rooted relationships with the natural world.
For centuries, Holi’s vibrancy emerged not from synthetic colors or mass-produced powders, but from flowers, leaves, barks, and seeds gathered during the spring bloom. The festival was once a living expression of ecological knowledge and community stewardship, reflecting a worldview in which people and nature were intertwined. But the Holi celebrated today has been reshaped by forces far beyond the festival itself including colonial rule, industrialization, and modern consumer culture. These processes have collectively distanced Holi from its ecological foundations, transforming what was once a celebration of renewal and nature into an event that often contributes to pollution, toxic waste, and environmental stress.
I. Origins: Holi as a Celebration of Seasons, Nature, and Renewal
Long before Holi became a global cultural symbol, it was intimately tied to seasonal change. Taking place at the end of winter and the arrival of spring, its timing coincided with the rabi harvest across the northern Indian plains. Communities embraced Holi as a marker of transition from scarcity to abundance, barrenness to bloom, and as a celebration of life.
Rather than being driven by consumption, traditionally, Holi’s color palette came directly from the landscape and was an expression of gratitude for nature’s generosity. Families collected flowers, seeds, and herbs to create richly hued natural pigments at home. Some of the most common dye sources included tesu, turmeric, henna, neem, hibiscus, and indigo plants. These pigments were not just visually striking, they carried Ayurvedic properties believed to cool the body, soothe the skin, and ward off seasonal fevers. In this way, the celebratory and the medicinal existed in harmony. This ecological intimacy meant that humans and nature were not separate; they were co-participants in a shared cycle of renewal.
II. Colonialism’s Impact: When a Nature-Based Festival Was Recast Through a Western Lens
British colonial rule in India, lasting roughly two centuries, left deep marks on cultural life. Many indigenous festivals were scrutinized, regulated, or reinterpreted through Victorian ideals of civilized behavior. Holi was no exception.
When British rule extended across the subcontinent, Holi, like many indigenous festivals, was filtered through a distinctly colonial gaze. European administrators and missionaries often reacted with discomfort to the sensory richness of the celebration, such as the vibrant colours, rhythmic drumming, laughter-filled teasing, and the temporary dissolving of social boundaries. These forms of joyous public expression clashed with Victorian ideals of restraint and decorum.
Yet what they viewed as chaos was, in fact, a longstanding cultural practice rooted in renewal, equality, and the rhythms of the natural world. Holi traditionally invited communities to step out of rigid social hierarchies, reconnect with each other, and celebrate the arrival of spring. But through the colonial lens, these moments of collective joy appeared threatening, something to be disciplined or corrected.
This moral judgment soon shaped administrative attitudes. From the mid-19th century onward, public festivals across India, including Holi, were increasingly monitored and regulated. Colonial officials preferred celebrations that aligned with their expectations of orderliness, which meant curbing forms of public expression they saw as unruly. Over time, these pressures altered how communities were able to celebrate in shared spaces, narrowing the range of practices considered respectable or permissible.
These critiques also seeped into elite Indian society. Educated and urban communities, especially those influenced by colonial institutions, began distancing themselves from Holi’s more earthy traditions. As Cohn argues in Colonialism and Its Forms of Knowledge, British classificatory practices and administrative norms reshaped how many cultural expressions were perceived. Within this new evaluative framework, elements such as singing, teasing folk songs, covering one another with dyes, or participating in informal street gatherings increasingly came to be viewed as unsophisticated or embarrassing. This shift reflected both the pressures of colonial expectations and the desire among some Indians to appear modern in the eyes of the ruling power.
As the elites distanced themselves from more the folk centered Holi traditions, Holi became associated with the poorer parts of Indian society. Thus, colonial disapproval did more than judge Holi, it subtly reshaped it. The festival that was once centered on seasonal change, local ecology, and communal participation lost some of its cultural legitimacy as less and less people celebrated the holiday.
Additionally, colonial rule brought chemical dye production to India. With the introduction of cheap synthetic dyes, household dye preparation declined, artisans who specialized in natural dyes lost livelihoods, synthetic colors became symbols of modernity, and colonial industries profited as local ecological knowledge eroded.
As Holi’s colors increasingly came from industrial chemical processes rather than landscapes and gardens, a quiet philosophical shift took place. Fast, factory-made dyes replaced slow, nature-based craftsmanship, and color became something to buy rather than something to make. Earlier, Holi’s colors carried the feel of the season-- petals dried in the sun, turmeric ground by hand, dyes mixed at home. With industrial pigments, color became detached from those rhythms, turning into a bright, disposable commodity. In this shift, the festival moved away from practices rooted in ecology and community toward a more hurried, consumption-driven ethos.
III. Contemporary Environmental Impacts
Today, many Holi colors sold in markets contain heavy metals, microplastics, and industrial chemicals that are unsafe for human health and the environment. As explained by Gupta and Thappa, exposure to toxins such as lead oxide (used for black), mercury sulfide (used for red), and copper sulfate (used for green), can lead to skin irritation, respiratory problems, and long-term health issues.
Additionally, cities across India are experiencing serious water shortages, which makes water-intensive Holi celebrations increasingly unsustainable. As several state governments have issued advisories to limit water use during the festival, and as single-use plastic waste rises during festival times, it’s safe to say that the environmental and human health consequences of celebrating modern-day Holi reflect broader economic trends in which festivals increasingly rely on industrial supply chains that are disconnected from the local ecology. At the same time, the ecological impacts associated with Holi must be understood within broader patterns of human pressure on local ecosystems. While there is very limited research specifically documenting Holi colours washing into waterways, anecdotal accounts suggest that when this does occur, it contributes to stresses already driven by factors such as unchecked groundwater extraction, river pollution, and waste accumulation in rapidly urbanizing environments. In this sense, Holi’s environmental issues arise not only from the festival itself but from a wider context in which everyday consumption has intensified and ecosystems are already under strain.
IV. Colonial Legacies and Cultural Alienation: How the Festival’s Meaning Shifted
Colonial legacies have played a significant role in reshaping Holi, from a festival grounded in ecological knowledge and locally sourced materials to one that increasingly contributes to environmental harm. Colonial policies, combined with the rise of industrial capitalism, devalued plant-based dye traditions, normalized synthetic dyes as symbols of modernity, and disrupted local economies that once relied on natural resources. Ironically, at a time when climate crises are accelerating, the need to return to ecological practices is more urgent than ever.
Last Holi, some of my family members in India noticed their skin becoming irritated by the usual synthetic powders. On a whim, we made our own colors using turmeric, dried flower petals, and beetroot. The pigments were gentler, but the experience itself felt more grounded and meaningful. This small experiment echoed a much older tension. As Prakash Kumar shows in his study of nineteenth-century indigo plantations in Bengal, colonial planters likewise defended plant-based dyes by invoking the value of agriculture, land, and nature against the rise of synthetic chemical indigo. Their struggle was not about climate change, but it reveals how deeply questions of value, purity, and ecological connection have long shaped debates over natural versus synthetic materials. Today, as the climate crisis intensifies and synthetic chemicals saturate everyday life, these historical dynamics take on new relevance: reconnecting with simple ecological practices is not just sentimental, but part of a broader rethinking of how production, environment, and well-being are intertwined.
V. Reclaiming an Ecological Holi
A growing movement across India and within the diaspora is working to restore Holi’s ecological spirit, blending sustainability with cultural revival. Communities, schools, and local organizations have begun teaching families how to prepare their own natural colors—drying flowers, boiling beetroot, grinding turmeric, or steeping hibiscus, reviving an older knowledge system that once defined the festival. Alongside these efforts, many people are turning toward eco-certified or herbal colours that avoid the heavy metals and synthetic additives now common in commercial gulal. Water conservation has also become an important part of this return to tradition. In regions facing drought or scarcity, residents increasingly embrace dry Holi celebrations, avoid water balloons, and encourage public events that minimize water waste. At the heart of these efforts is more than environmental concern– it is an act of cultural reclamation. By acknowledging how colonial narratives once stigmatized indigenous, nature-based celebrations, communities are choosing to restore Holi’s original relationship with the land and to practice these traditions with renewed pride.
Holi is more than a festival of colors, it is a celebration of renewal, ecological abundance, and human–nature connection. In an era defined by climate stress and environmental degradation, reconnecting with Holi’s nature-centred origins is both meaningful and necessary. Reviving natural dyes, reducing waste, challenging harmful colonial legacies, and re-embracing ecological knowledge can help restore the festival’s original spirit.
A greener Holi is not a new concept–it is a return to tradition.
Frayashti Shekhawat is a Master of Arts in Law and Diplomacy candidate at The Fletcher School, specializing in international security, conflict prevention, and global governance. She is committed to advancing equitable, locally grounded approaches to global policy through multilateral engagement and cross-border collaboration, informed by her background in education and community initiatives.