Heaven on earth

You know the cliché that men use when they ask a woman if it hurt her when she fell from heaven?  Well, I saw her.

It happened in a store.

No, she was not a sale item on a shelf.

I saw her sashaying ahead of me.

Ok, she did not fall from heaven.  She carried the sky on her back.

I entered the store and turned left when I saw a woman wearing a tank-top walking ahead.  From an angle, all I saw first was her left arm.

Was it really what I thought I saw?

I quickened my pace in order to get a full view.

I could now clearly see not only her left arm but the right and her back too.

It was indeed what I saw: A tattoo that read चन्द्र just above her left elbow.  I am glad that I learnt Sanskrit and Hindi, which use the Devanagari script.   चन्द्र (chandra) is the word for the moon.

Mirroring on the right, just above the elbow, there was सूर्य.  Of course!  Perhaps even readers who do not know the Devanagari guessed that the contrast to the moon has to be the sun.  Indeed, सूर्य is the sun.

Tattoos of stars, big and small covered the back that was not covered by the tank-top.

I don't want to imagine what was in the front under the top!

She was a walking planetarium!

By now I am used to people with tattoos.  It is almost as if I am surrounded by people who are inked.  A former colleague, who has more than one tattoo, said that you can never have just one tattoo.  The first one is apparently merely a gateway to many more.  Getting inked can be addictive, I understand.

Being a square guy among many who modify their bodies in ways that blows my mind, I have a hard time understanding why people do what they do.

I am reminded of a strange experience, about a decade ago, on a flight on the way to India.  It was in the domestic segment before the international connection from Dulles.  I was in the window seat, a woman-- perhaps in her early-thirties--in the middle, and an older man in the aisle seat. 

The woman made it clear that she was interested in chatting, and every once in a while I participated in the conversation.  She was on her way to Belgium to try living there for a year with her boyfriend whom she had met online.  If it was successful, she would make Belgium her home based on her online interactions alone. 

She got all excited when I said in response to her question that I live in Eugene.  A local tattoo artist was a friend of hers.  She started explaining to me about her professional expertise not only in tattooing but also in body modification. 

Up until that conversation, I never would have guessed scarring as modification. Yes, scarring. As if the topic itself was not enough discomfort to me, offered to show me the scar that she was very proud of.

She proceeded to remove her scarf, and undid the top button of her blouse. 

Imagine my discomfort when being asked by a full-bodied woman to look at her chest, and in the plane!

There it was.  A long scar just above her cleavage.  A scar that she had designed herself!  An intentional scar.

To see the entire five-inch scar, she would have had to remove all the clothing on top; I am glad that she did not.

My mind immediately thought of the physical pain it would have caused.  She didn't think that the pain was any big deal.  No big deal?  I don't even like to accidentally nick myself when chopping vegetables in the kitchen.

A few years after that experience, I was working with a physical therapist to deal with my shoulder pain.  He thought that I would benefit from massage therapy in addition to exercises, and introduced me to the massage therapist in the office.

I removed my shirt and lay on the table all tensed up.  I don't like people to get close to me, especially when I am not fully clothed.

She zoomed into the shoulder.  And, with great excitement, she asked where I had my scarring done.

Scarring?  Me?

I had no idea what she was referring to.

She pointed to the scar.

I told her it was a keeloid that I have always had.

Boy was she disappointed!

Maybe I should proudly talk about my only modification.  Yes, I do have one.  On my first birthday, my ears were pierced as per the old country's old traditions.

Maybe I should start wearing earrings, eh!

Nah. I didn't fall from heaven ;)