It must’ve been the sight of Sania Mirza’s extreme mehndi that did it: I really have no better explanation for the sudden onset of my recent henna / hina / camphire / mehndi-centred thoughts.
Maybe it’s the early swelter of summer heat this year. I swear I can smell the mehndi plant in our garden. The hotter it became, the more the plant disbursed its distinctive fragrance into the dry, furnace-blasting air.
I’ve been beset with visions of my Biji returning from her daily barefoot journey to the Gariahat Market in the summer months. Biji had given up footwear and colour in her Satyagraha days and insisted on wearing plain white “dhotis” and loose white blouses for the rest of her happily married life. Her tiny, milk-white, tender feet were blister-red by the time she came home from the bazaar and as she came home, her feet were soaked in cold rose-water solution.
In the summer months, this did little to relieve her and I remember Lakkhi making a thick mehndi paste out of fresh leaves from our garden and applying it to the undersides of Biji’s feet. Biji would finally relax and lie back, her feet on a low stool, soothed by the mehndi’s “coolth” seeping into her burning soles.
I think of mehndi in a different context and without too much effort I can feel the raw excitement of my pre-pubescent heart beating to the visceral rhythms of the dholki as we danced during my masi’s mehndi ceremony.
Rummaging through my memory-banks now and I do definitely know that the Lawsonia Enermis plays a significant role in the cosmetic as well as health rituals of several cultures ranging from the Ancient Eqyptians to the Persians to the Southern Chinese between 7000 and 2000 BC. Many religions and regions use a paste made from the leaves and branches of this plant (first dried, then made into a powder, then mixed with water) as a natural dye in their rituals and ceremonies. Hindu, Muslim and Sikh marriages and other celebrations are incomplete without it.
I’ve been reading articles that talk about mehndi’s spiritual properties (many tribal and traditional societies imbue naturally occurring “red” substances such as blood, ochre and henna with properties such as energy-generating, empowerment, protection, love etc.) Some societies think henna patterns help ward off the evil eye and grant protection from malevolent djinns. In some places, mehndi / hina is used for its celebratory cosmetic properties in intricate patterns on different areas of the body, especially the palms and the feet. The unmistakable fragrance, the colour of the natural dye, the cooling effect of the paste also has its allure, I’m sure. Added to these must be the medicinal benefits of the paste when applied to skin or hair. It conditions and cleans and cools the scalp and the palms and the soles and thus soothes and calms the mind.
Maybe it’s the early swelter of summer heat this year. I swear I can smell the mehndi plant in our garden. The hotter it became, the more the plant disbursed its distinctive fragrance into the dry, furnace-blasting air.
I’ve been beset with visions of my Biji returning from her daily barefoot journey to the Gariahat Market in the summer months. Biji had given up footwear and colour in her Satyagraha days and insisted on wearing plain white “dhotis” and loose white blouses for the rest of her happily married life. Her tiny, milk-white, tender feet were blister-red by the time she came home from the bazaar and as she came home, her feet were soaked in cold rose-water solution.
In the summer months, this did little to relieve her and I remember Lakkhi making a thick mehndi paste out of fresh leaves from our garden and applying it to the undersides of Biji’s feet. Biji would finally relax and lie back, her feet on a low stool, soothed by the mehndi’s “coolth” seeping into her burning soles.
I think of mehndi in a different context and without too much effort I can feel the raw excitement of my pre-pubescent heart beating to the visceral rhythms of the dholki as we danced during my masi’s mehndi ceremony.
Rummaging through my memory-banks now and I do definitely know that the Lawsonia Enermis plays a significant role in the cosmetic as well as health rituals of several cultures ranging from the Ancient Eqyptians to the Persians to the Southern Chinese between 7000 and 2000 BC. Many religions and regions use a paste made from the leaves and branches of this plant (first dried, then made into a powder, then mixed with water) as a natural dye in their rituals and ceremonies. Hindu, Muslim and Sikh marriages and other celebrations are incomplete without it.
I’ve been reading articles that talk about mehndi’s spiritual properties (many tribal and traditional societies imbue naturally occurring “red” substances such as blood, ochre and henna with properties such as energy-generating, empowerment, protection, love etc.) Some societies think henna patterns help ward off the evil eye and grant protection from malevolent djinns. In some places, mehndi / hina is used for its celebratory cosmetic properties in intricate patterns on different areas of the body, especially the palms and the feet. The unmistakable fragrance, the colour of the natural dye, the cooling effect of the paste also has its allure, I’m sure. Added to these must be the medicinal benefits of the paste when applied to skin or hair. It conditions and cleans and cools the scalp and the palms and the soles and thus soothes and calms the mind.
Ultimately, though, I think that the mehndi stands for all that is feminine (read: all those characteristics desired from the feminine in any patriarchal society.) It is one more way of emphasizing the time-worn feminine ideals:
Beauty, Grace and Gentility are embodied in the curves of the inter-linked vine like patterns of leaves and petals moistly climbing the palm and the inside of the forearm
Energy, as in the colour of the rising and setting sun: this red energy is vested in the very nature of the essential feminine. The shakti of Parvati to lure and rouse Shiva from his meditation; the blood-cycle that makes birth possible, the life-force that is necessary for fertility are all manifested in the colour-patterns of the henna.
Patience and Nurturing are evident in the intricate patterns as fundamental requirements from both the pattern-maker and the pattern-wearer. The slightest carelessness and lack of concentration on either’s part will lead to destruction. The pattern maker must keep her hand steady and her interest stable for the entirety of the time it takes to complete her task. The pattern-wearer must be able to keep her patience through the extra hours necessary to nurture the finished design with oil and sugar and lemon and keep it dampened for as long as possible if the dye is to deepen to the desired colour.
From Africa to India, across religions and regions, through centuries of use, the essential significance of mehndi / henna / hina –whatever spiritual names and characteristics we may choose to give it—is another one of those male constructs designed specifically to tell the female what she should (and therefore should not) be.
As I grow older, the feminist in me recognizes and respects the feminine in me, male construct or not. I like mehndi. I just don’t have the patience to keep it on for the required length of time.
8 comments:
I almost hate mehendi designs on hands [-(
Aren't you glad you don't have to wear them, then!^^
Silence!
Long time no posts!
Sorry, Raja. Am travelling in Ireland with the family now with intermittent internet connections.
Post your Football World Cup predictions on my blog :-)
You forgot Andrew Jackson’s Big Block of Cheese with nary a macaroni in sight.
Hey, I am checking this blog using the phone and this appears to be kind of odd. Thought you'd wish to know. This is a great write-up nevertheless, did not mess that up.
- David
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