from India: part 4
one year later: film photographs and words from my trip to India, February 2024
february 22nd, 2024
i bleed when the moon is full i bow to the sun tucking itself in behind mountains, leaving a blanket of orange and purple in its wake and when i wake i again give thanks to this day to these feet with their steps one leading to the next to my ancestors' foot steps for guiding my own to walk this land to the spirits of this land an image of Shiva appears in the stone in my bathroom smiling upon me and i feel at peace with each word i write, the purple in the sky thickens to swallow the orange the sky is clear tonight and i wonder what constellations sparkle down upon this part of the world if i close my eyes and feel for the threads, i can trace my way back to when my ancestors looked up at these same stars around a fire after dinner weaving stories amongst spiced fumed air crackling wood warming hands, scarves wrapped around heads fennel and jaggery ginger and honey if i close my eyes the taste returns to me i open my eyes and i am here - the taste still present on my tongue i let it seep into my blood stream it is familiar i am here in the home of my family, i feel them with me their hands on my back, they are brushing my hair they welcome me home with nourishment from their bones it is in the food that i am remembered it is with the food that i remember
february 25th, 2024
my last day in India. i walk by the homes with the mandalas by the front door. the women do a different mandala every day in powder. throughout the day the mandala fades. a lesson on impermanence. a lesson on ritual. a new day comes with its own mandala. my henna from the wedding is fading. a little bit of color lost each day. and i learn to let things go. i have been India for two weeks and yet it feels like a lifetime. who was i before i left? who am i now? my body feels tired. and i am learning about impermanence.
