Every day. A rhythm of transformation.

The festival of Holi begins with a fire.

The story behind it tells of a king who demanded worship.

Even from his own son.

But the boy, Prahlad, refused.

He continued to worship Vishnu.

The king tried to destroy him.

Nothing worked.

So the king’s sister Holika, protected by a cloak that resisted fire, sat with the boy inside a bonfire.

But the cloak lifted.

It covered the boy instead.

Holika burned.

Prahlad walked out.

Tonight families will light bonfires remembering that story.

Tomorrow they will throw coloured powder into the air until everyone is covered in the same colours.

Everyone becomes bright.

Everyone becomes unrecognisable.

For a day, the world remembers that identity is not always where we think it is.

Everyone becomes indistinguishable.

For a moment, the divisions disappear.

Paul's vision in Galatians 3 is Holi theology in different language. The divisions that structure society — ethnicity, economic status, gender — are not the final word about human identity. Underneath them is something more fundIn Your Nametal: we are all one in Christ.

This is not a call to pretend the divisions don't exist. They do exist. The caste system exists. Racism exists. Economic stratification exists. Prahlad's father was not pretending.

But Holi says: for one day, we practise what the world should be. We throw colour on each other until the categories blur. We remind ourselves — with powder and laughter and complete strangers on a street — that the divisions are real but not ultimate.

What division in your world have you accepted as permanent that might need to be interrupted with something as subversive as colour?

Scripture: Galatians 3:28