Growing up, I never liked Holi. It could be that one time that it took me several days to get the silver oil paint off my skin. It could be all the stories I heard from women about how Holi was really an opportunity for guys to molest them. Or maybe the time when some friends ate bhang and acted like rank idiots for hours. 

Or maybe I just don't like paint (of any kind, even the so-called , natural colors) thrown at me. No. Please keep your colors to yourself. I am quite content in my color-blindness.

However, now that we've given up our homeland it seems like we have no option but to like it. We must wish all our friends. We must rejoice in its supposed free-spiritedness. We must enjoy its apparent call for eternal friendship. I struggle with that idea. I can see a very unphysical vision of that idea and it does give me joy. However, its physical manifestation leaves me largely unimpressed. No, I don't think there is anything wrong with it. Like a lot of other things, that are otherwise probably alright, It was just not for me. 

However, I attended a local Holi festival last year (in the true American fashion, it was conveniently on a weekend) and while I won't go so far to say that I enjoyed it, it was fun to take pictures and see the kids baffled by the seeming ridiculousness of adults around them. 

Mostly made it worth the while. You live. You learn.