Encounters with henna

RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE

Henna is a quintessentially Indian body art form--less taxing than a tattoo, and certainly less painful. Adored by brides, it’s a fairly simple yet insufferably long process that leaves the wearer feeling confident and possibly dead arm.

As a teenager celebrating the end of the school year, I decided to get mehendi done on my right hand, and following the cliche decided to put it on Instagram. My DMs have been pretty quiet as of recent, but I was incredibly surprised to find my messages bursting the next morning! My British friends aren't used to henna at all but are obsessed with it so immediately enquired about where to buy henna, complimented it almost excessively and vowed to try it as soon as possible.

Every other night with henna can be appreciated, even celebrated--but the night during which the henna hardens and dyes the hand is truly hell. While it dries, the hand has to be completely still and must not crease up even the slightest bit. To get the best effect, it must be left on overnight and the scene on the bed that meets the eye the next morning is almost horrifying. Thankfully, this time, it had dried before the damage had been done so all it took was a quick brush. Still, the fear is disproportionate to the result.

Body art has always been a specific interest of mine. I’ve always been fascinated by makeup. Eyeliner has to be my favourite makeup tool--there’s something about the careful, precise application and the unimaginable glee when the wings flick perfectly and symmetrically (not forgetting the pained screams that are expressed when it is ruined, of course). Having never used henna before, I was very optimistic that it would be similar. Wrongly so. I decided to try a flower on my finger first, and this culminated in me wiping it off hurriedly every twenty seconds and just praying for the best.

Next, I tried drawing some hearts. These didn’t work. Finally, I decided to be artistic and wrote the word ‘hope’ on my wrist. Unfortunately, no one except me could read this word fully. Impatience defeated me this time, and after only twenty minutes I vigorously tried to wash it off (to my annoyance, it stubbornly stayed). I’m not sure I could call this a complete win, but it was the closest I could get!

My only tip for both the henna-wearers and the henna-appliers: don’t give in to impatience. For your own sake, or the price will be paid for many long weeks spent washing hands.