India
By Marie Gernes
India was the feel of a finger prick right before the red dot of blood appears; the sting and surprising lack of pain as you begin to bleed.
It was the taste of a flower, of tea steeped in milk with cloves and cardamom, of homemade naan dipped in orange and green sauces with your fingers, the flavor becoming your skin.
It was your host mother taking you into the family’s shrine to honor her parents, then showing you her wedding photos while sipping chai from terra-cotta mugs. It was staying up late with your host sister to paint henna up your arms, then flaking off the brown earth bit by bit.
It was sitting on the floor of Mother Theresa’s orphanage and rocking a little girl who was 18-inches tall. It was holding the four fingers that stuck out of each of her shoulders, watching her smile through her cleft palate and deep brown eyes. It was the warmth of her body as she leaned against your legs. It was her shame as she peed on you through the strip of cotton that was her diaper.
It was sitting in the lotus position with a thousand schoolchildren in blue uniforms, palms pressed together and eyes scrunched closed as they chanted ancient Hindu prayers.
India was breathing in jasmine, strong but delicately sweet, mixed with smog. It was seeing naked toddlers walking in the gutters and women scrubbing laundry on the sidewalks. It was the soles of your feet burning, blistering against hot stone as you looked up to God.
Marie Gernes graduated from The University of Iowa in May 2006. She is currently teaching kindergarten with Teach For America in the Mississippi Delta. She studied abroad with The Institute for Shipboard Education (UVA) on Semester at Sea in Spring 2004. Contact her at mgernes@gmail.com.