Homecoming, Sort of

Our school is in the midst of its Annual Function days right now. The homecoming isn’t for alumni, necessarily, but sort of for Ram. After his defeat of Ravana, he took a long journey home, and his arrival will be celebrated next week with Diwali, India’s biggest festival.

The atmosphere at the Bhavan right now is a lot like homecoming at my school in Washington. Lots of interruptions in the teaching day, a complete lack of concentration, and strange interclass competitions. Although I’d have to say that the traditions practiced here make a little more sense than electing a queen, engaging in eating contests, or having the faculty at school embarrass themselves in a lip synch.

One of those traditions is a Mehendi competition. Mehendi is an ancient practice that used to be associated with bridal preparations. Henna leaves are ground into a paste that is used to dye the skin. It’s applied through little sacs—sort of like icing bags for Christmas cookies. So yesterday I gathered with a group of 30 or so girls all representing their classes and allowed Taruvi, one of my 11th Commerce students, to use my hand as her canvas.


I have students at home who routinely steal my sharpies to write on their arms and hands in some outpouring of creative countercultural expression. I really never cared what they did, but I was often a little annoyed that I couldn’t find my markers at the end of the day. But who knew they were actually putting a new spin on an ancient Indian art form?

The students had one hour to complete their designs, and only had to complete one hand. I had to sit very, very still. Afterwards, there was no high-fiving (for obvious reasons), but there was some trash talking between Shruti and me regarding whose design would win. She may look innocent, but she’s a scrapper.



The Mehendi itself takes a while to dry. And if you really want to the color to deepen you’re supposed to apply a mixture of lemon juice and sugar, keeping it damp for the next 24 hours or so. I of course didn’t have the patience for this, so I instead enjoyed the feeling of picking off a million little scabs as soon as I got home. Incidentally, mine turned out really orange, which according to folk wisdom means my mother in law actually likes me.





While some of us were busy getting our skin stained (it will go away in a couple of weeks), other students were creating Rangoli—or floor art made from colored and dyed grains. Students created these elaborate designs from rice, lentils, and other dry foodstuffs on the floors outside their classrooms. This is also associated with Ram’s return home, and is an important sign of welcome in any Hindu household. It’s also sort of like edible graffiti.



All the festivities will culminate in the performance of two plays this week, and the Diwali celebrations on November 1. Until then, very little formal teaching is happening, but I’m learning a ton.

Jen