Tomorrow is Karva Chuath, a Hindu and Sikh festival in which married women fast to pray for the health of their husbands. The fast begins at sunrise and lasts until they gaze upon the full moon (through a sieve, in which they see their husband's face). We arrived at the marketplace after midnight, and spent a few hours among pocketfuls of women and men clustered in various corners; women receiving henna, and men applying it.
I watched two brothers create incredibly intricate designs upon wrists, hands, and ankles of our group. Street dogs bantered tooth and maw, weary artists huddled under blankets for warmth, and the full moon's eye burned above its future audience.
Since I arrived in India two days ago, I experienced my first moment of peace-- and a sense of haunting wonder that echoed from deep within; that inner country I have not yet reached but occasionally feel its presence.
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