The Colorfulness of Holi
On the morning of Holi, Tara woke to a gray sky and a grayer mood. “Where is the colorfulness?” she grumbled, peeping out from the balcony. Buckets of plain water waited near the tap, dull like sleepy buffaloes.
Amma was busy in the kitchen, frying hot pakoras that smelled of onions and ajwain. Tara sighed and dipped her hand into a bucket. Just water.
Then she noticed the tiny paper packets beside it—forgotten in a corner. She tore one open. Pink powder puffed into the air, soft as talc, bright as a hibiscus.
colorfulness: pink on cheeks, green on kurta, yellow on Amma’s nose. Laughter splashed louder than the water. The gray sky stayed, but the morning felt painted new.Soon the courtyard burst with