 She called back the next day, and asked me to come to her house and I said that for free henna, she had to come here, because here was my lighting, backdrops and camera. She seemed upset. She hung up. Three phone calls later she made an appointment to get her free henna here. When she arrived, she was with her two sisters. They were clothed to ankles and wrists, were fully veiled, and nervous. I have two dogs and five cats; they were terrified of them, and scrambled back into their car until I put all pets in the backyard. They only came in the house when I assured them that none of the animals could get in. Because my husband was in the house, his door had to be shut before they'd come down the hall. When they were in my henna room, door closed, they told me that I was to do the henna for this young woman's betrothal ceremony. They would only permit non-representational patterns. Flowers, perhaps, but no animal forms. I ditched the patterns I'd chosen, all my plans, and pulled out the Indian bridal books. More than anything, I wanted to listen, watch and learn from them. They were from Hyderabad, had been in the USA for 5 years. They had been sent to universities, but were uncomfortable there. Then, the woman's parents received a marriage proposal that seemed suitable, and they agreed to marry her off. I guessed them to be in their late 20's. The bride was plain, dark, small boned, with tiny hands, and did not smile. I hennaed until she seemed to relax. They frequently reminded me that they could henna perfectly well, themselves, and peered at my work waiting for me to make a mistake. I asked if her betrothed was a nice fellow. She got stuffy and said that her faith required that men and women be separate. She went stony. I'd asked the wrong question. I hennaed until I felt her unstiffen. She said he lived in Florida and she was in Cleveland, and their families had made the arrangement. He was a professional. She had a college education. It was a suitable match. I asked if she hoped he'd be a nice fellow. Wrong question again. Her face turned leaden. She tightened her mouth into a tiny frown. I rephrased: "Do you trust that your parents have chosen well for you?" She relaxed. Yes, of course she trusted them to have chosen well. She would do her duty to her family and her husband. She had no feelings other than the joy of devotion and submission to the will of her family and God. She felt deep peace in this. A week before, I'd hennaed another young woman from India, a student at the University, living with her Irish Catholic lover, animated, ambitious, feisty, cheerful, in love with life and perpetually in a battle with her Indian mother. Peaceful was not at the top of her priorities, and her duty was to herself. There could not have been a greater contrast in two clients. I continued to henna, quickly, as they became impatient. A sister pulled out a cell phone to call home. They were expected back. They reminded me again that they could do this perfectly well themselves. The bride asked me if I knew anything about cosmetics. Not much, just what I'd learned from my daughter. The bride wanted something to even out the spots on her forehead . I said a foundation would help, and she might find one where my daughter shops, where there's cosmetics for dark skinned women. She looked down, sheepish. She was dutiful, modest, but still wanted her betrothed to think she was pretty. She didn't want him to see her pimples. I kept listening, listening, wanting to learn everything about her universe, where duty eclipsed desire. She was confident that her submission was correct. My other client believed that her independence was correct. Something moved out from under the couch. A cat. The sister sitting on the couch screamed. The cat ducked back under the couch and was irretrievable. She hovered in midair. I tried to reassure them the cat would not harm them, but they were not convinced. In Hyderabad, cats and dogs were scavengers, wild, and dangerous. "Pet" and "cat" were mutually exclusive. The cat, frightened by the scream, refused to come out. I hennaed fast to finish. I sorted out the cats and dogs and husband as well as I could to make it safe to go from the henna room to the photography room. I got the pix. I sorted out the cats and dogs so they could go safely to their car. Two months later, I talked to someone who'd been to the wedding party.
All the talk was about the beautiful henna. The henna artist's identity
was a big secret.
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