Henna Quotes in The Henna Artist
So when it came time to design the floor of my house, I created a pattern as complex as the henna I had painted on those women's bodies, delighting in the knowledge that its meaning was known only to me.
The saffron flowers represent its sterility. Incapable of producing seed as I had proved incapable of producing children. The Ashoka lion, like the icon of our new Republic, a symbol of my ambition. I wanted more, always, for what my hands could accomplish, what my wits could achieve—more than my parents had thought possible. The fine work beneath my feet required the skill of artisans who worked exclusively for the palace. All financed by the painstaking preparations of my charmed oils, lotions, henna paste and, most importantly, the herb sachets I supplied Samir.
I shook my head. “You think it's that easy? This house took thirteen years of hard work and Yes, Ji and No, Ji and Whatever you say, Ji. You'll never have to do that if you go to that school. You have many years in which to have a child, after you finish school. […] You can be something better than a henna artist. Better than me. You can have a meaningful life.” The water was almost boiling. “Just—please help me find the cotton root bark.”
Her voice trembled. “He said I was just another cheap pair of hands to you. Your business only took off after I arrived. You told me yourself you booked more appointments now because of my henna. If that's true, then why can't you trust me to think for myself? […] It doesn't matter how hard I work, how much I do. You'll never have faith in me!”
There was always a moment before I placed the final dot of henna on a woman's skin that felt significant somehow. Never again would I repeat that particular design, and after a few weeks, it would disappear entirely. This moment with Mrs. Sharma felt final, and ephemeral, in the same way.
I felt my spirits lift. I would leave the map of my life here, in Jaipur. I would leave behind a hundred thousand henna strokes. I would no longer call myself a henna artist but tell anyone who asked: I healed, I soothed. I made whole. I would leave behind the useless apologies for my disobedience. I would leave behind the yearning to rewrite my past.
My skills, my eagerness to learn, my desire for a life I could call my own—these were things I would take with me. They were a part of me the way my blood, my breath, my bones were.