Ten Years ago today: Henna

 Shaadi.com

I envy the idea of arranged marriage.  In fact, the concept of coming before a stranger minus a past or a bruised heart with the sole purpose of pledging to stand steady no matter life’s insanity has very real appeal.   In the Indian culture, arranged marriage is still very much common practice and many times it manifests in the form of a blind date set up by parents based on similarities, caste, income, level of education and social and family values.  The prospective bride and groom size each other up over a few meals and emails and if they like who has been placed before them, family rejoices and a wedding is soon to follow.  Of course, this concept does not translate into the western way.  We tend to scoff at the idea that our parents could possibly know our own hearts better than we do. We ignore the years our parents have seen and dismiss their lessons learned. We forget that they only want to protect us by setting us on our way unblemished.  (although I do cringe in horror just thinking of who my mom may have picked for me...)    Instead, we trample after love with the delicacy of elephants, time and time again, until some of our hearts start to resemble those dented canned peas hiding behind the overripe bananas on the grocery clearance rack.

 But sometimes.. oh yes, sometimes we get lucky.

Ameya and I came together, each bringing our own past.  After all, one cannot reach 31 years of age without having lived every one of those 31 years.  In our newly joined home, we have a room that I recently painted what I thought would be a lovely warm shade called ‘clove bud’  but actually turned out to be the color of the surface of the sun.  However, in the brutally cold Chicago, a pumpkin orange room thankfully goes a long way to inducing feelings of warmth.  In the ‘orange room’ we have a collection of gods; little Ganeshas, A stone Buddha, my rosaries from each country I’ve visited, a gold colored Lakshmi, and a lovely Shiva against a blue background.  Unfortunately, at one point my husband had let slip that this particular Shiva had been a gift to him from a past girlfriend and her family.  I then suggested that in our home together, it would be wise to leave items from the past safely in the past, especially since each time I glanced towards this proud god, he looked back with eyes that knew more of my husband than I did. But one does not simply give away Shiva, nor does one attempt to hide him behind other knick-knacks.  Shiva, is after all, the destroyer and by nudging him aside, one is foolishly asking to be taught a lesson...

A short time after Shiva and I grudgingly decided that we could share the same home, Ameya and I ran into someone I had once dated.  (For the sake of avoiding confusion, we’ll refer to him as ‘Rooney.’)  I stood next to my husband, made small talk and all the while I felt ashamed of myself because in the past, I had been in the wrong.  A few years back when I had been seeing ‘Rooney,’ neither of us were in a very steady place in life. He had been a friend for a long time and as a result, I had set unattainable expectations for him, foolishly overlooking the fact that he was clearly out of his depth. I did not take the time to build him up by telling him that he was attractive, smart and most of all kind (all things of which he was woefully unaware.)  I was not overly nice or supportive and to be blunt, I likely left him in worse shape than I had found him. I took his friendship for granted and for that I have been sorry ever since.  However, one does not blurt these things out when sitting next to one’s husband. So as I glanced at ‘Rooney,’ I gave an inward nod to Shiva, acknowledging a lesson well taught, and silently asked him to send some much deserved good karma in the direction of my past friend. 

Regrets, mistakes and insecurities do not magically dissipate upon completion of marriage vows and as I sat the night before my wedding, looking over my henna covered sticky arms, a thousand questions and fears raced through my mind.  The days leading up to the wedding had been full to bursting with checklists and travel and family and obligation and as a result, my first moments to sit and truly comprehend the magnitude of the step I was about to take, came just hours before our ceremony. Up until this point, the entire concept of marriage had always seemed slightly horrifying to me as I come from a family in love with the idea of love. They leap in so joyfully, headfirst, only to end up with brutal concussions for their trouble.  And while I admire the strength with which they jump, I had always been much more comfortable standing just a few paces away from the edge.  

However, In my work, I have had the privilege of singing for countless weddings and I have to say that all of the brides make it look so easy. (except for that one who started dropping ‘F bombs’ when I asked if she was ready to begin.) I never see any trace of a past walking with them down the aisle to the future.  And they always seem so relieved to finally place their hand in their husbands, as if the insanity is finally over rather than just beginning.. For Ameya and me....the insanity was truly just beginning. ;)

Bangkok is stunning and I have to say that it’s possibly the best place to contemplate having a pre-wedding panic attack.  We had had a mere two days between our plane touching down and our wedding, each overrun by multitudes of new people, sights and experiences and the exterior chaos had begun seeping inward. As culture dictates, the day before our wedding was set aside for the Mehendi celebration; a gathering in which the bride’s hands and feet are decorated with henna, thus beginning her transformation into a wife.  According to tradition, the mehendi usually takes place with the bride’s family.  However, since Thailand was a bit far to expect my family to travel (I myself nearly needed a horse tranquilizer for the flight..) Ameya’s best friend Sid and Sid’s entire family were standing in as my own.  From the time we landed in Bangkok until the moment I was handed over in marriage, I was a member of the Mahapatra clan, proud recipient of two lovely parents, a grandmother, two brothers, a sister-in-law, and a small dog, Rex. While Ameya had been staying with his family at the Hotel Lotus where our ceremony would take place, I had been staying in the Mahapatra home, a pretty 7th floor apartment with dark wood floors and light blue walls in the lush green Sukhumvit area of Bangkok. 

The day before the wedding, I awoke early, dressed in a pale green salwar kameez (skinny pants covered with a knee length tunic,) ate a very light breakfast in fear of having an upset stomach with henna covered arms, and settled in on the couch to be fussed over for the next couple hours. Sheena was a pretty and petite woman in her early 30s with a beautiful warm complexion adorned with purple eyeshadow, a silver nose ring, large earrings and long curly black hair. She began with one tiny curvy line on the inside of my arm, halfway between my wrist and elbow, and I watched in fascination as intricate designs burst outward, eventually encompassing my entire forearm and hand. She was using what looked like tiny foil pastry bags with the tips cut only slightly bigger than a ball point pen. Occasionally, I answered questions Sheena had seemingly asked only to realize that as she bent over my hands, she was chatting away on a phone which was permanently embedded in her ear.  

In an effort to get me to stop nervously biting my nails, Ameya had told me that henna is a manure based product, (as if a little poop is enough to get me to stop...) However, I did a bit of research on my own to discover that henna is thankfully, plant based (Lawsonia inermis.) The paste of ground henna (either prepared from a dried powder or from fresh ground leaves) is drawn onto the skin  and left on from a few hours to overnight. Once the dried paste is washed (or chiseled) off, a lovely rich brown stain is revealed.  Henna stains can last a few days to a month and I have read that the darker the stain, the more the brides’ husband and in-laws will love her. It is said that the longer the bride retains the mehendi, the more auspicious her future will be...or possibly it just tells that she is not effectively washing her hands after each bathroom break..

As the hours passed, the warm Thai sun came in from the balcony and the room began to fill with warmth and people. Two other henna artists had arrived and were in the process of covering the hands of my future mother and sister-in-law. Others wandered the apartment with cool drinks and plates of amazingly fresh and colorful Thai food (of which I was still terrified to eat.) My arms had been completely covered in henna and doused in lemon juice and sugar and I listened as women chatted lightly around me.  My friend, Joanna, had flown in to Thailand from Poland the day before and was ever present behind her camera lens, gleefully taking picture after picture, while trying to coax smiles out of camera shy sari draped ladies.  

Time passed as it has a habit of doing and people began to slowly trickle out of the apartment. As the bride must not step out of the house after the mehendi ritual until the wedding day, I was left to my own devices, quietly sitting in a chair on the 7th floor balcony, overlooking a Thai sunset.  While my henna dried and began cracking, I could hear children happily playing below, the drone of multiple air conditioners, and high pitched hindi music coming from an Indian soap opera inside the apartment.  I watched a huge grapefruit sun sink lower on the horizon while inhaling the smell of a thousand of dinners being prepared. I felt calm in watching the night slowly wash over Bangkok as the light from a million windows began to flicker over lush trees rustling in the warm breeze.  I found comfort in the continuity, in knowing that tomorrow, married or not, the breeze will still blow, the sun will still set, children will still play and the light from a million windows and countless lives will still flicker.