Holi Festival

.....I foray into Hindu religion on a glorious Saturday among some of my classmates and the wonderfully bleached and rounded fellow we sometimes call Bump. Mother Nature blows us cool and crisp air while Apollo’s chariot hangs at a comforting and warming distance. I, wary of Holika, the demon sister of Hiranyakashipu, king of demons, came ready to fight! Size matters not! I would use my noble hammer and smite the evil, vanquishing Holika once and for all attempting to burn her brother Prahlad so many moons ago. But karma had Hiranyakashipu’s evil plan turn, and Holika is burned in her brother’s pyre. I’m relieved; I’m a lover, not a fighter. And indeed I had come to the right place then. Why it wasn’t long before the holy people started singing and chanting for Radha and Krishna, and everyone worshiped in the name of love and selflessness.
.....I spiraled down into my sub-consciousness, zooming through a tunneled nothingness filled with high-contrast blotches and rings. When my decent levels off, as there is no bottom or top, Radha and Krishna stare tellingly at me. Inside of myself I cannot hide anything from anyone, and my unsettling heart beat fastens as the beating drums of holy men festively up their tempo. I sit Indian-style in a foreign Hindu temple for a moment as wispy ghosts of love are drawn fancifully in my imagination. My skin horripilates with waves of displeasure and desire to cry. Love conjures from the grave a Glorious phantom to illuminate my tempestuous soul , and from the vision, something mysterious and something serene begins. I recommit myself to love. Fearlessness funnels into the imaginary hammer that trumps Hiranyakashipu and I promise to love more. When I do not love, I will try to, and when I am not trying to, I am thinking about love. And my imperfect life will follow love’s perfect path.
.....Cat taps my shoulder; reality snaps into focus as my eyes open wide; her soft smile is gracious. “It’s time to eat,” she says, her mousy voice sounding full of etiquette. I eat two plates of food; Rooftop’s girlfriend doesn’t eat as much as samples, so I wrap up her plate easily. Bump shares with me a sweet round donut hole; a lawyer and his girlfriend sneak away to “change”. After the scrumptious vegetarian dinner Bump kicks off Dhulhendi, the powder throwing part of the festival. We laugh wildly, playing like children. One innocent coloring leads to another and suddenly we’re covered! The music returns and the crowd mixes dancing, running, and powder dousing. Smiles beam and jokes abound as Blake takes it in the mouth (hahaha). Oh, the Holi festival.