Mehendi. The fragrance of it is reminiscent of happy times, festivals, days out, weddings. Fresh, earthy, tinged with a musk of sorts. In this day, we put mehendi or henna only when an occasion requires it, the designs, artistic peacocks and swirly, swishy nets that span the back of our hands and palms. It signifies an occasion, for me, it has never signified anything but a celebration. And while that may be the case for me and the people I know, it might be different all over the rest of India, where mehendi is applied every other day. It is applied generously sometimes with smears coating the tips of fingers and a misshapen circle in the centre of our palms, other times forming luxurious imagery of queens and kings, lovers at dusk, birds of the night, starry-eyed fish and whatever else a henna artist can think of.

The Henna Artist written by Alka Joshi came out in March 2020 and is a lovely read. It follows 30-year-old Lakshmi who has escaped an abusive marriage and hides within the large walls of Jaipur working as a henna artist for the rich ladies of society. Lakshmi trades in secrets and gossip as she helps the ladies make matches for their children while she draws beautiful henna art on their bodies all the while helping their husbands have affairs by providing their mistresses with pregnancy preventing sachets. And then Lakshmi’s hard-earned world begins to come crumbling down when her 13-year-old sister, Radha, who she had no idea existed finds her in Jaipur.

I think the idea of having a story set in the 1950s of India, right after independence has been earned, is so interesting. Most historical fiction stories will focus on the Partition of India, the Mughal Era or the sparkling ’80s where everything was glamorous. Rarely does one see a story set in the ’50s in India’s own Rajasthan when Nehru was still figuring out the five-year plans. So I liked seeing what India was like in the 1950s. And Joshi builds up India so well in her writing. She writes in simple language and yet uses that language in such a descriptive manner that the experience of reading this book feels lush and sumptuous. I can see the Pink City come to life like it is being sketched in my mind, the dusty street, tongas driving past high arches and columns of stone jaali, market places teeming with urchins, the scent of henna invading one’s senses as the cool paste is drawn over warm skin.

This section will contain a few spoilers, so please read at your own risk.

I think the idea of sisterhood was such an important theme of the book. I have a sister and I would do anything in the world for her. Radha and Lakshmi’s relationship was fraught with complications. Lakshmi was doing her best to provide for Radha, giving her the education she never had, trying to send her to university. She was spending large parts of her savings now feeding another person who she was responsible for. She didn’t give it a second thought, it was her responsibility towards her sister and she fulfilled it. Radha in return was unbelievably ungrateful. She was only 13, her understanding of the world was still incomplete having lived under the shadow of people who hated her and considered her a bad omen. The slightest love and sweet words swayed her. I know Radha was supposed to garner sympathy, empathy maybe. But all I felt for her was a great sense of irritation. She was the snake that bit the hand that fed her. She got pregnant, alienated her sister and was childish. She ruined the life Lakshmi had built for herself in the span of a few months and she showed no remorse. It was a very skewed relationship to me. I would never treat my sister the way Radha treated Lakshmi. Perhaps that is me being harsh, but I could never empathise with Radha.

I liked that Lakshmi was faced with her abuser and was afforded an apology by him. So rarely do we see domestic abuse survivors coming forward and getting a heartfelt apology. It may count for nothing in the long run but as a reader, it was so nice to see an abuser was no longer an abuser. It didn’t make me feel anything for him, all it did was give me a sense of peace that the next woman to fall in love with him, to marry him would be safe, wouldn’t be a victim. And Lakshmi as a survivor knows how to handle the abuse of men she meets in her life. The scene with the neem oil vendor was especially chilling and it made me shudder to think of the woman married to him as Lakshmi escaped from his lodgings by the skin of her nose. I think Joshi puts forward the idea that men who cheat are abusive too. They abuse their partner’s emotions and the emotions of the women they cheat with. They may never raise their voice or lay a hand on a woman, but the idea that they are fickle enough to betray their partners is abusive. And in a world where barely any rich women work other than hosting parties and being housewives where they are dependant on their husbands and will most likely not look at obtaining a divorce from them, where there are in a way helpless, using this helplessness to cheat is emotional abuse.

Another aspect I liked was how once all is said and done and Lakshmi decides to leave Jaipur, she leaves without demeaning the relationships she had. She believed that while those relationships may no longer mean anything to her, they were a part of her past and she wouldn’t forget them. I feel that’s such an important lesson to learn. People in our life teach us lessons that we learn from, and when things end with certain people it feels easier to shove them under the carpet forgetting important life lessons that we learn from them. Lakshmi refuses to deny that Samir was indeed a part of her life once, she keeps the lessons she learnt from him and all the ladies who were once in her life at a cool distance, not that she might forget them but that she might never forget what she learnt from them.

This book was a poignant read, filled with strong emotions, vibrant characters and lovely imagery. I can’t wait for the next book based on Malik who was my favourite character from this book!