A GARDEN IN MY HANDS

A child of South Asian descent describes what henna means to them.

The night before a wedding, the young narrator stretches out on the floor while their mother applies henna designs to their hands. With each design, Mama shares memories and speaks of “ancestors long gone.” After Mama finishes, the protagonist must be careful to protect the still-wet ink. The child goes to bed in a pair of gloves and wakes up in the morning, worried about how the now dry designs fared overnight. To their delight, the pictures remain intact even after the child scrubs and chips off the dry flakes on top. The narrator arrives at the wedding ready to celebrate and to show off their hands to their grandparents. The text reads like free-verse poetry, skillfully weaving simple, child-friendly language into vivid, multisensory imagery; the child calls the henna “A garden in my hands, / I will tend for days.” Dominated by intricate patterns and hues of purple and green, the digital art positively sings. Many readers of South Asian heritage will smile with recognition at Mama and the narrator’s attempts to avoid smudging the designs; we see Mama help the little one sip through a straw and brush the child’s teeth. Those less familiar with the tradition can learn more from the informative, deeply personal author’s note. (This book was reviewed digitally.)

An intimate, lyrical story about an ancient artistic tradition.