Chaos. A fantastic day of running around being free. The Indian children in our ‘hood were almost to the point of tears with joy. They would call out “Happy Holi”, mischievously peering from behind their gate. I would stop suddenly, dramatically in my stride and crouch low, eyes narrowed and hands up in loose fists. From their hiding place, I could see the tip of a water gun or the edge of a bucket, water splashing out on to the ground as their tiny muscles shook, poised to empty the bucket on me as soon as I came close enough. This was colorful war. I’d make like I was going to start running, lunging towards them; they would shriek and giggle. Their giggles would continue as I reached for my plastic baggie of bright pink pigment. Then, just as I was about to make my move, from some attack post in the upper floors of the house, a giant waterfall of water would come crashing down completely soaking me in murky blue water. These little guys on the ground were just a distraction, a ploy! The children would all cheer and run out to me, hands outstretched. I would crouch down and laugh as tiny little fingers smudged fluorescent pigments across my cheeks and forehead. I loved this day. Happy Holi!