Farah arrived at Padma's house hours early and they discussed the sort of henna tattoos that she wanted. "We don't have the time that you'd need to do a lot of what I feel like having done," she said a little sadly, "so could you maybe do a mix of complex and some more open things?"
Padma grinned, "Ok, what exactly is going on here? You look at my little portfolio and decide. If what you really want is beyond what I can do in one evening, I can always call my mother to come downstairs and between us, we can probably do a whole Hindu bridal body package for you. Are you getting married or something?"
Farah shook her head, "No. I'm not getting married, but what I have in mind is really something to celebrate a beginning. The man is worth it to me, believe me, and anyway, I've wanted to have some of your fine work ever since you first let me look at your portfolio. Now I have my excuse to go for it."
She sipped her tea and made some selections. Padma looked at Farah's body and asked about other areas. Farah answered her and after laughing between themselves, the next thing that Farah knew, Padma had her mother involved.
"I like these bridal ones very much," Farah explained to the two of them, "but it's not a wedding here." She tried to explain. "I see this man as more than what he is."
"Well, we all do that," Padma chuckled as she tossed her long raven hair back, "at first."
Farah laughed, but shook her head, "He is North American in his heritage, half from Europe and he is half Ojibwa. This doesn't matter. I can't really explain it, but let's just say that inside him, there is more of a Sumerian sort of background, well Sumerian and something else just as long-gone, but even less known."
Padma didn't really understand, but her mother got it right away. "If you see him in this way, what is it that you would want?" she asked, "If this were a game, Farah, how do you wish to play?"
"You mean like reincarnation?" Padma asked.
Farah grinned, "Not really, Padma, but let's use that as the idea. I see him as a king's son, a mighty warrior from a time long ago. Somebody like that would probably often receive tributes from other lands, either as well-wishing acknowledgments or as hopeful inducements of friendship. My people came from a place of warriors themselves where this was done ages ago. Where some of my ancestors came from tributes went back and forth to Egypt all the time. Sometimes the tributes were things like fine wood, or spices, or gold, or – "
"Women," the older woman smiled, with a knowing grin, "You wish to offer yourself as a tribute to this one."
Farah nodded, "Exactly. We already have something of a relationship, but it hasn't gone to the next step. I wish to let him know that from my side of it, we may go there."
"It changes a few things," the older woman said, "let me go upstairs to find my old books. I know that I have patterns like this, things from those regions. I have always wondered why they were included in the old books. I never saw a purpose other than the art. If you see something that you like, it would make me happy to have been able to use a few of the patterns at long last."
She laughed, "I don't know if what I have is Iranian or Iraqi, Mesopotamian, Syrian, who knows? I can't read the writing, and I assume that he can't either."
Farah shrugged, "I don't know that he can't. He's a very surprising man. I've seen that he knows more than he thinks he knows, if you can understand that."
Padma's mother grinned, "Then we may have trouble with the letters and symbols, and I think that I had better leave the writing out of any that you may choose for yourself. Some kinds of people would even do this to their cattle long ago. It wouldn't do at all if I spend a lot of time and we find out later that all that it says is 'please bless this cow' or 'most revered ass'."
That sent them into gales of laughter. "Damn," Farah chuckled, "well, I'll see if he can read anything like that. If he knows how to write the symbols, I'll have him write that one out for me. If this works, I think I'll want that one next time!"
"I meant 'donkey'," Padma's mother grinned.
"And I don't care," Farah laughed, "I'd want it."
"For some of what you want, " the older woman said, "we will need to shave you."
"Already done," Farah smiled.
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Their friends arrived three hours later and stared as they were ushered in where Padma's mother worked. Padma brought them tea and explained as they sat down.
"I'm done with my parts for now and I needed to be ready for you guys," she said. "Farah's got a heavy date or something."
"I'll bet," Pam exclaimed as she looked at the patterns swirling from Farah's shoulders to her thighs, "Look at you. Holy, ..."
"You look awesome, Farah!" Sarah exclaimed. "I'm going to sound stupid here, but is this a cultural thing?"
"Yes and no, "Farah smiled, "It doesn't have to be, it's just not done here very much, but on the other side of the world, women have been doing this forever. Some people do it in France, but I'm going back to my own roots here. This is done in Iran, and also it's common all over Africa, India, everywhere.
My heritage is from the Sudan and Iraq. The women of both of those places have done this for thousands of years for weddings, festivals, celebrations, or just because they want to feel prettier. It's an ancient art and you don't need any reason to do it other than for fun."
She grinned, "Though I'm a little disappointed that we couldn't find one that says something like 'Bless this most revered ass' in ancient Egyptian or something."
They laughed and Padma's mother smirked as she worked near Farah's labia, "Too late now, Farah. I could have done it in Hindu, but I have used up all the space."
