Story behind the piercings and the tattoo: Part II

Once I completed my graduation, I felt the need to do something new again. Did I mention this before, how I get bored very easily, even with myself? With a ear-piercing gone wrong, I decided to focus on converting my bane to my boon: that snub in the middle of my face I call my nose. Maybe adorning it with a little something would turn people’s focus away from the fact that it is a snub. Or maybe even bring their attention to the fact that my flat tiny nose actually exists. I will never forget the day I got my nose pierced. Having spent a million hours standing in front of the mirror trying to visualize myself with a nose pin (at some occasions even sticking a stone bindi to my nose!) and pestering Mom with the same question over and over again (“I will look good, won’t I?”) and then answering it myself (“Oh sure I will!”) I finally ended up in a unisex salon with a friend this time for support.

The lady with the gun this time found it funny to scare the already skeptical girl, and so in answer to my perfunctory “Will it hurt?” she said sadly “Ya. It will. A lot.” The moment the piercing was done, a single stream of tear ran down my left cheek. Adding insult to injury the lady giggled, “Didn’t hurt, did it?” Still trying to get over the shock of the sudden shot, I went over to make the payment, at which point the lady decided to take the joke a notch higher. “Don’t have anything sour for the next few days, and don’t change the nose pin until this dries off. If the pain increases, get some pain killers”. It must have been the last line which did the trick. Suddenly my world turned black, and I started sweating profusely. Not being able to breathe, I somehow managed to walk down the stairs, and while the friend went to get his bike, I sat down on the sidewalk with my head cupped in my hands. I now wonder in horror how that must have looked to passersby. I’d had a full blown blackout after the piercing was done and till date I haven’t been able to figure out why.

I wish I could tell you that the nose piercing story got over right there. I don’t wish to drag you through the whole messy ugly details, of how despite being told not to touch the nose-pin until it’s healed I’d attempted (very, very painfully) to change the nose-pin and wear my brand new diamond that I had got for that very purpose, that evening itself, and how I’d ended up swearing over and over again when that didn’t work, and how I had a wee re-piercing all on my own… But I don’t want to drag you through that. So, moving on.

Two years later, having made a jump from the frying pan into the fire, that is my admission to post-graduation in computer application, AND having got myself a bold hair-cut (the idea was to chop it all off except just enough to cover my skull), the rebel in me was back. And how! So one day the imp with the attitude, courtesy the bold hair cut, coolly walked into a salon and asked for a re-piercing in the ear, right at the same place the earlier one was. Three somehow sounded better than two, so I wondered if I could get my third piercing in each ear right that day. Surprised and somewhat disbelieving, the girls sent me back, saying I could and should wait for at least a week for the pain (and hopefully the craziness) to abate.

But I was back. On time the following week. And the third AND fourth piercings followed in quick succession, one right on cue after the other. And I thoroughly enjoyed the look on the sales-woman’s face when I would ask for four pairs of similar earrings. I still do, actually. Specially when I have to show them all my four piercings.

But so far it has just been the eight piercings on my ears, and the ninth on my nose. Since I am going chronologically, next comes the tattoo, about which I have mentioned right here. As for why I had the tattoo made… you know what they say about there being a story behind each tattoo? Well, if they don’t say something like this they should. There is a story behind each tattoo. Mine had to do with a totally screwed up year; one whole year of messing things up left right and center, and then commemorating change with that tattoo. Plus until then I had known only two people who’d had tattoos made, and I found it really cool. So the piano clef tattoo on my right ankle stands for that time when I took charge of things, and promised to myself things will take a turn for the better. And I will be responsible for that change.

But the last piercing is something I hold very close to my heart. Technically I would hold it close to my belly though. The tenth and last, is a belly button piercing. And it is extremely special because the fiancé (till then the would-be fiancé) had proved to me then just how cool he really is by letting me go ahead with it. Honest confession, the belly button piercing didn’t have anything “significant” behind it. It was just a statement I had to make. And sometimes flaunt. There is only one woman I know who has got one other than me, and the really special sister that she is, I made sure she accompanied me in that grueling mission. Her holding my hand all the while did make it easier for me. Although the six hour bus journey the very next day from Guwahati to Tezpur did not. Did you know a belly button piercing takes the longest to heal? I hadn’t known. Now I know. Painfully true.


Here ends the story. And coming back to where I started from, had my mother known that her daughter would be going getting piercing shots in her ears and nose and heaven knows where like it was normal, maybe there wouldn’t have been that much ceremony for the first one. All I know is at least I will have something to show my grandkids someday. A grandma with a tattoo…gives me the kicks just to think about it you know!

Well Mr. DJ, sorry for all the blabbering, but I would still ask.. does this answer your question?


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