^^ZJyJKK T'mSanjay,and my parents

don't usually let mestay out this late. I'm dragginga broken board from our fenceto throw on that huge pile ofsticks and fallen branches. Ithink we will have the biggestbonfire ever in our town innorthern India.

It's spring and time for Holi,the Festival of Colors. For dayswe've been cleaning house.Father painted the walls, andMother decorated the doorwayswith flowery designs.

Whoosh! The bonfire is lit.It's hot! I step back to see howhigh the flames shoot up.Everyone is singing anddancing. We're happy winter isover and spring has comeagain, bringing new life andbeautiful colors to our land.

12© 2005 by Susan Yoder Ackermaii

by Susan Yoder Ackermanart by Betsy James

w y y^ Holi is a time of joy andv / jr laughter—and for acting sillypy and playing tricks. This^̂ morning my sister hid Father's

shoes! But the teasing is all in funand grownups don't scold theway they might on other days.

I feel my father's hand on myshoulder. "Sanjay," Father says,"time for bed." ,

I hate to leave, but I can'twait for tomorrow. In my

bedroom I lay out a pair ofshorts and a white shirt. It's hardto fall asleep, but before I knowit a cuckoo is singing itsmorning song.

13

"Ho// hair Mother calls."It's Holi!" She gives mea plate of jackfruit forbreakfast, and lays out thebags of paint powder shebought in the marketyesterday—red, green, blue,pink, black, silver, purple!The powder is called gulaiMy father mixes it withwater and pours some intoa pichkari, or squirter. I fillsome balloons.

There's a knock at the door.It's Viku. I'm surprised. He goes

to a different school and nevercomes to play at my house. Buton Holi everyone's a friend. Vikuhas brought us a tray of gujiya.The pastries look like half moonsand smell wonderful. They'refilled with dried fruits and nuts.

I thank Viku, but then—hepulls out a pichkari and squirtsme! I'm dripping red all downmy clean, white shirt.

"Bura na mano! Holi hai,"he shouts, smiling. "Don'tbe offended! It's Holi." . •..

We all laugh together.Mother throws purplepowder on Viku. My fathersquirts him with blue water.

Out on the street, clouds of colorpuff out over the crowd. Children areshooting colored water everywhereeven on strangers. I toss a heavyballoon full of pink water up inthe air. It lands—Splat!—on agrownup's head. Oh, no! It's myteacher! He splashes me with abucket of green paint. I'm amess, and I love it!

::̂ J

We throw paint all morning,until the people, the streets, andthe houses are drenched withevery color of the rainbow. I seemen covered with paint laughingand hugging each other. Everyonemakes peace and promises to begood neighbors on Holi.

In the afternoon we wash and put on newclothes, then sit eating and visiting withneighbors into the evening. As a big orangemoon rises above the rooftops, I close myeyes and see the flames of the bonfire.Maybe I will play with Viku tomorrow.