In between the hype about the General Election, International Women’s Day, recession and the rest of the important things the world is talking about, I almost missed out that Holi is just two days away.

I would have forgotten it completely had not a mischievous water-filled balloon landed on me, wetting my favourite silk shirt. I looked around for the miscreant, spotting him as he aimed another missile at me from behind a verandah. I was ready to scream at him when I saw the gleam in his toddler eyes, a gleam that I had buried in my past, a gleam that had been forced away by adulthood.

He aimed the balloon and it hit its mark, leaving another dark spot on my shirt. He squealed gleefully, arming himself for the third time, his toothy grin broader, the gleam now a shine spreading all over his face. He couldn’t believe his luck at having found such a sitting duck! I indulged him again, pretending to be shocked and adding to his bubbling laughter that washed over me in a cathartic flow.

I could hear him laugh even as I walked away, brushing away a tear that mourned the loss of childhood. Wish I could aim a few balloons myself and laugh without constraints.

Even if I don't gain good karma at least I'd laugh a little more.