It was time to leave Dharamsala this past Tuesday, March 2nd and although I have been in Delhi for two days now it still has not quite sunken in that my life for the past month in this small Himalayan village has come to an end. So, let me not dwell on a whole mish mash of feelings but instead write about the greatest Holiday / Festival known to mankind – Holi ! Holi was this past Monday, March 1st. Holi is one of the major festivals of India and is celebrated with enthusiasm and gaiety on the full moon day in the month of Phalgun which is the month of March as per the Gregorian calendar. Holi festival may be celebrated with various names and people of different states might be following different traditions. But, what makes Holi so unique and special is the spirit of it which remains the same throughout the country and even across the globe, wherever it is celebrated. Typically it is celebrated with the throwing of colors on one another to celebrate a time of new beginnings. There is good food, drink, music and dancing and much love and laughter to go around for everyone. Can anyone think of a better celebration? Needless to say, since we had a grand Holi celebration with my girls and the wonderful staff at homebase in Dharamsala, I felt it had the added significance of a personal ‘going away’ celebration. I do not have pictures to post just yet but let’s just say there was plenty ‘o color this day and I was wearing much of it! Water is also involved so yes, one can imagine when buckets of colored water are thrown on your already colored body it has a profound way of settling into your skin and hair. It took a Hair Salon in Delhi yesterday to finally remove the last bit of green from my hair by coloring it. I suppose I could have left it in and waited for St. Patrick’s Day right around the corner. Words can not explain what an enjoyable day that was spent in the most festive of ways with a group of incredible people who will forever be with me. The next morning I packed my belongings that now was cluttering over three beds (I did not have roommates for the past ten days and that was just blissful), donated my alternative food survival kit (a stash of Ramen noodles, potato chips, cashews and half eaten Cadbury bar) to my sweet daughters I was sadly leaving behind and almost pathologically hugged everyone around me until Anil said, “it’s time”. Sarah promptly trapped me in the kitchen and body blocked me from leaving and Anil smiled as if he knew the feeling and just as I was released my backpack (yes, the one holding my passport!) had gone missing. Again, Anil to the rescue and he spotted it hidden (not so well) under the staircase. Final hugs, be strong, hold back all tears, last hug to Anil and rush into the back seat of the Jeep without too much thinking. The last thing I saw was Anil’s large hand up against the back window in a final salute of “so long” …. not “goodbye” …. yes, that’s right, i think to myself and then mutter in a whisper “until we meet again”! This is the thought I cling on to as I watch the now familiar countryside speed by me on the 45 minute ride to Kangra Airport. That sunny afternoon, the day after the happiest Festival of Colors, Holi, I departed and left a piece of my heart in the mountainous village known as Dharamsala.

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