Yesterday was Holi, the festival of colors, but my celebration started a month ago with fresh colors on the trees; something different about the light.

Walking around the holika the previous evening, the ritual bonfire that marks the festival was somber and scorching, as it usually is.

Our park association held a Holi Milan function, a random get together of assorted souls who walk in the park and were ok with the @150/ fee… major learning for me when I escorted a bent, shaky, aged gent home. He transformed from an old man with no family to a man too fond of the bottle, with a caring family—four sons—his wife who worked a vada pao stall, the real bulwark of the family. Reminder to self not to go by what is apparent!