7 Apr

I look at my nails and see the lasting remnants of India – henna stained crescent moons on one, serve as a daily reminder of a time that now feels so far away, geographically and emotionally.


5 Responses to “nails”

  1. Rebecca April 8, 2011 at 6:29 pm #

    I felt the same when I got back from India. My arms and hands were covered in ornate designs drawn on by the girls at my school. As the weeks passed by in Aus, the henna faded. I actually remember the day when the last faint bit of orange skin was gone. I was so upset that the last bit of India was gone from me. I now think how silly I was because i still have so much India in me. I have cravings for curry, chapatti and chai and go out of my way to get them. I still do the head wobble every now and then. And their culture is very much entrenched into my day to day life. I see the world differently now and I treat people differently. The henna was a symbol of my time there but it was not the only sign I had been.

    • prupodum April 9, 2011 at 12:04 am #

      YES the head wobble, I was doing it tonight! the bits that stay, the parts that remind you… wonderful times

  2. bec4890 April 8, 2011 at 6:37 pm #

    whoops. I posted a comment but i wasnt logged in. Sorry, Im still getting used to this blogging thing.

  3. stellainindia April 9, 2011 at 9:03 am #

    While volunteering in India I received a red string while at a talk by His Holiness the Dali Lama. The string is a sign of his blessing and I was told these blessings stay with you for as long as you wear the string tied around your wrist or you neck.

    So I wore the piece of red string round my wrist for the next 3 years, hoping His Holiness’ blessings were still with me. Recently it fell to pieces and I became really superstitious that I was no longer blessed but more so that final ties to India were gone.

    Since then the perfect tan line around my wrist remains, as do my ties to India. The string now hangs above my bed, with pictures of students and friends met in India; maybe my understanding of what my grandmother always wanted hanging above my bed to protect me; the crucifix.

    • prupodum April 9, 2011 at 12:45 pm #

      Nice stell. I did a similar thing with a black string from a temple, but no where near for as long but still I put meaning in it.

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