GETTING MY NOSE PIERCED – CHENNAI, INDIA

This definitely makes the list of head-smacking, “WTF am I doing?!” moments I had on this trip. Upon reaching my parents’ place in Trichy, I mentioned to my mother that I was considering getting a nose ring. Why? I’m not too sure what my reasoning was based on but I thought it would be one or all of the following things: something cool to do in India after which I could say “oh that, yah I got that in India”, my mother has one so it makes sense to continue the tradition, it would make me look like some bad ass who went traveling around Asia for eight months and finally - leaps of faith always helps nurture change.

I wasn’t nearly prepared for my mother’s enthusiasm. She booked me an appointment on the day I arrived in Chennai from a two-week jaunt in Southwest India. Apart from being exhausted, I was completely taken aback. I had just spent 12 hours overnight on a train and my mind really couldn’t comprehend or appreciate how my mother had taken it upon herself to make up my mind for me. We showed up at the jewelry store, picked out the stud and then headed up a few more floors to a sketchy, corner office. There was a little girl getting her ears pierced and wailing in her mother’s arms. Not exactly the sound of reassurance. The whole setup seemed a little too ridiculous to be true. It all took place on the floor of this office and the man who ran the operation looked like he had walked in from the street and got appointed for the task at hand. My North American standards was expecting plush chairs, cleanly dressed professionals, the smell of rubbing alcohol and someone asking me if I wanted tea - this place obviously did not fit the criteria.

With one stern look, my mother pushed me along and prompted me to sit on the floor. I tucked my legs under me and looked at the man for some guidance. He hurriedly swabbed my nose with something that had a faint smell of alcohol and then proceeded to mark a spot for the piercing before handing me a mirror. It didn’t look right and I knew it right away. Seeing that this was to be a permanent and exposed fixture on my face, I was quite critical and wanted it to be absolutely perfect. I could tell he was getting impatient with my uneasiness. My mother and I finally found the spot by our selves and he seemed to be content with it, reaching for the tools spread out before him. I wondered where the piercing gun was and what kind of medieval operation he was running here. Then I heard my father’s voice in response to my own thought, “wait, is he going to pierce the hole with just that needle!?” My mother’s tart answer followed, “yes, just the way I had it done!”. My nervousness and anxiety reached its climax at that moment. It’s moments like this where I find courage in my internal monologue: “I’m here, there’s no turning back, this is what you wanted, stop being dramatic and just do it”. By the time I had finished coaching myself, the deed was done. It took place quickly and the pain was intense but not nearly as horrible as I had imagined.  The tears were delayed, rolling furiously down my cheeks and as I wiped them away, the smiling and proud faces of my parents became visible. At that very moment, I wondered where we’d go for lunch - I was starving.