I spent Holi, the festival of colors, after a decade at my hometown. The days with mom-dad made me wander in the past. I watched kids playing with colors, throwing balloons at each other, and laughing. It felt very nostalgic.

I could see 20 years younger myself participating with that crown, laughing and dancing, and playing with my school friends. I spoke to all my friends and shared those pictures, and laughed about our past.

Later in the evening, papa took me to the village to pray to our ancestral god(kuldevta). It was like visiting back in time and imagining my grandma preparing all foods and other savories to welcome guests. I remember how impatient she would get if there would be any delay in cooking. The village male would take out julush(possession), beating drums, playing sankh, and dancing intoxicated on bhang.

Later when I walked around the mango fields, it reminded me of summers as mango tree was full of manjjar(flowers) and some with tikola(baby mangoes). Our summer holidays meant running at those orchids, aiming at the kisanbhog mango, and collecting them. They would taste super sweet when raw and later walking in the paddy fields mimicking koyal(cuckoo) or other birds dancing and intimidating them. Our day would end bathing naked, throwing sands at each other at boarding pumps meant to irrigate the paddy fields. We were break free, less conditioned, and innocent.

While returning, we stopped at the paan shop run by Rajkumar uncle. He has been running it for over 40 years. He made 1st paan for me, AFAIK. While papa was exchanging pleasantries, I walked to the bazaar looking at farmers selling vegetables from their farms. I purchased some local saag(spinach).

Am I acting dumb or being too nostalgic?