May 2007 

 

Suddenly, they’re everywhere: at street fairs, malls, on the Net. Henna tattoos have become quite popular. But this “new” form of skin art isn’t new at all; it’s a tradition deeply mired in the culture of the Middle East and the subcontinent and closely tied to marriage and other festive occasions. Its beauty, in other words, is more than skin deep.

Henna, or mehndi, as it is called in India and Pakistan, has been used for centuries as a means of adorning a bride and, in some cultures, a groom before marriage. While it is recognized today as a mainly Indian and Pakistani practice, henna has been used by Jewish, Christian and Persian people as a part of their wedding rituals. In addition, it wasn’t simply restricted to bridal parties; historically, the Eid festival and other auspicious events have been commemorated with henna art. Even animals have been adorned with henna as a mark of favor.

So what is henna? It’s a plant (the official name is hawsonia inermis) found in the regions most associated with its use: India, Pakistan, Iran, Morocco, and Egypt. The plant is ground into a powder and mixed with water to form a dark muddy paste. Typically, the paste is squeezed out of a tube or bag (think icing on a cake) directly onto the skin. It’s entirely organic (with a very earthy aroma to it), so there is very little risk involved.

True henna art is a painstaking and delicate process which requires patience from both the person doing the mehndi and the one receiving it. Henna is applied to a person’s hands (one or both sides) and/or feet. The woman (always a woman) who does the work works from scratch, squeezing out the cool henna mud in a pattern that usually centers on paisley motifs and floral patterns. Depending on how elaborate the design is, a henna artist can be hunched over a single hand for over an hour, doing both sides. In contrast, a simple design can be done in just a few minutes. Of course, the bride gets the most work done, but the majority of the women in the bridal party will join in the fun. A Mehndi, then, becomes an intimate and festive social gathering. Often there is music, singing, food, and lots of gossip at these functions. Henna is applied not only for its beauty but also for luck and good wishes (hence the importance for brides).

While the end result may be delicate and graceful, the process is certainly less so. The recipient must, of course, stay relatively still while the mehndi is applied, but that is only the beginning. The dark mud outline has to remain on the skin for several hours (preferably overnight) for the henna to penetrate the skin and leave a clear, lasting mark. After the hennaed woman has borne the substance for as long as she can (by this time it has dried and begins to flake away), she washes it off and is rewarded with a clear, reddish-brown imprint of the design. Naturally, the longer you keep the mud on, the darker the pattern will appear. With time, the design fades, eventually vanishing within two to three weeks.

These days, henna art has become more commercial, more complex, and more scientific. Different dyes and more modern designs are catching on, even in traditional societies. And the very concept of a “henna tattoo” belittles the significance and tradition behind an ancient art form. To be fair, henna art is widely touted in the West as an earthy, natural and even spiritual way to decorate your skin; but when I see a man walk around with a hennaed dragon’s head scaling its way down his shoulder, I fail to see the mystic connection. It seems more that henna has become the most popular temporary alternative to tattoos rather than something altogether different. I have a great deal of respect for both art forms; tattoos can be beautiful and deeply meaningful, and certainly requires talent.

And there’s nothing wrong, I suppose, with the idea of henna as “body paint”. Some of the more elaborate designs (like tattoos, covering large parts of the body), are spectacular. But they’re also a total departure from what henna is all about in the lands of its origins. Furthermore, with do-it-yourself kits and increasing focus in fashion magazines, henna has enjoyed a commercial spotlight here that is practically nonexistent in the East.

Mehndi is its own thing, a visual symbol of joy and luck, an ancient heritage, and a celebration. I prefer to honor the quaint and simple elegance of the henna artist bending over her work, tube in steady hand, tracing a lovely design onto the skin of a hopeful bride while her family gathers around her.