Diary,

There’s a festival in India called Holi. It’s marked by vibrant colours and joyous dancing. Since I’m in Agra attending a study on why some people choose to remain single for life, we get a break to attend the festival and mingle with the natives.

“It’s known as the ‘Festival of Love’,” Penelope, our study coordinator, tells me as we sip coffee at an outside café.

The street is splashed with all imaginable colours, as are the people dancing with reckless abandon.

“It’s like our Valentine’s Day but it also represents the victory of good over evil, and the divine Radha-Krishna bond.”

“What’s the divine Radha-Krishna bond?” I ask.

“It’s the supreme, eternal and divine union in Hinduism, symbolising the inseparable connection between the individual soul, Radha, and the divine, Krishna.”

I shake my head. “Still lost here.”

She shifts to face me squarely. Surely, this is a favourite subject of hers.

“Krishna is a god and Radha is a gopi, or a cowherd devoted to serving Krishna,” she explains.

“While he loves all gopis, it is with Radha that he falls deeply in love with. A feeling that transcends physical, social and worldly norms, never bound by marriage, but united in pure devotion, love and surrender.”

“Why didn’t they get married if they loved each other so much?”

Her face darkens a little. “Tragically, she was married and he had a destiny to fulfil.”

I shake my head. “Still don’t get it. So, it was like brother and sister love?”

She smiles. “Erm… not really. They were lovers, through and through, only they couldn’t get married.”

That makes me laugh. “You mean they were adulterous?”

She avoids my eyes. “We try not to focus on that aspect of their relationship but on the deep, spontaneous, genuine love that it illustrates.”

“Genuine love between a god, who should know better, a woman married to another man. Didn’t they ever hear of divorce? C’mon, Penelope, people are out here every year for thousands of years celebrating a woman cheating with a god.”

“Maybe she was no longer in love with her husband.”

“So? She stayed with him while boinking divinity. And you know what? That’s like the worst kind of cheating.”

Her mood changes to “How so?”

“Let’s say a spouse cheats with a wuss. As a husband, you feel like you can take him, you know, reclaim your place. But a god? He can kick your ass back to purgatory,” I argue.

“You think if my woman cheated with Thor I’d make a noise? Hell no! I’d say, ‘Why don’t you invite him to supper, hun, I’ll barbeque.’ You don’t mess with gods.”

Now she laughs, a little at ease. “Are you saying you don’t like the idea of Holi?”

“To the contrary, I’m saying I love that the greatest love story in your country is about two people who can never be together. It confirms my theory on the frivolity of permanent unions. How do you think Radha’s husband felt?”

“Granted, he must have been devastated, but we’re talking about eternal love between a god and mortal. Surely you must see the sense in that.”

“I do. That’s the same thing a woman would say to justify cheating on her broke husband with a loaded man. And vice versa.”

“Oh, boy.” She shakes her head. “I can now see there’s no hope for you.”