stream of consciousness

the ephemeral innocence of skin

i'm a tactile person. when i see something, i am compelled to touch it, just to confirm that it feels as i expected it to feel. i love the sensation of textures under my fingertips. i think it somehow connects to the fascination i have with hands. some people check out girls' t&a's or guys' um, butts? (what DO people check out on guys?), but i just look at people's hands. i believe you can tell a great deal about people by their hands -- their lifestyles, their stress levels, their priorities, etc. it intrigues me to no end.

but i digress. as i was saying, i love to touch things, to allow my fingers travel across both familiar and unknown materials and substances. my favorite things to touch are arms, those of little babies and old people. is that weird? i feel like there is something so innocent, soft and vulnerable about both groups. i was thinking about this over the weekend as i was home for my cousin's engagement.

my amachi (my maternal grandmother) was in town for her granddaughter's engagement. i do not get to see her nearly often enough b/c she lives in florida and my aunt or uncle only bring her to visit when it's the most inconvenient for me. anyway, so whenever i see her, i'm always anxious to spend as much time as possible with her to make up for the moments of absence. my malayalam is horrid and her english has dwindled over the years. after a stroke 5 years ago, she has lost much of her eyesight and i can only imagine what she sees now. thus, our communication is silent and tactile. my amachi and i have a strong bond and i think it comes down to the fact that we both like to touch each other. we can sit for hours next to each other, with her hand on my mine. those are some of my most peaceful moments. this weekend was too busy to allow for such pleasurable moments so i had to sneak in time with my amachi when i could.

i love to stroke her arms the most. her skin is soft and loose as if it's slowly relinquishing control over the arms that have endured over 8 decades of struggling, kneading, cooking, spanking, massaging, planting, dressing, and all the other duties she's had over the years. that looseness scares me, it's a reminder of how her days are numbered... how one day her epidermal cover will not be a fortress against the onslaught of death. and yet it beckons me. i try to memorize the tactile sensations of my hand on her arm, to learn how her blood navigates through a network of veins, how each wrinkle and scar adds an unexpected complexity to her beauty and, most importantly, what it is about pattern of textures that leaves me with inadequate words to describe them. her skin is thin like gossamer. it's beautiful like a cobweb covered in dew on chilly spring morning. you might look at her arms and not see the beauty but you have to close your eyes and let your hands see.

another precious individual i spent time with this weekend was my baby niece, arundhati. her parents named her after the famous author-cum-political activist because they wanted her to be strong, proud and rebellious just like ms. roy. baby arundhati is the perfect age of 11 months when the world is her big toe, begging to be explored. she's trusting and confident that whoever holds her will guard her with all his or her might, because really, how could anyone let any harm befall such a beautiful, innocent and delicate baby?

i cherished the moments i was able to cuddle with her because her parents were anxious to whisk her back to their home in salt lake city. the next time i see her, i will be guarding her from admiring young men who will want to bask in her beauty just as her adoring cousins do now. because my tactile memories are so much more vivid than my visual bank, i had to content myself with committing her perfection to memory. as all adorable babies do, she has that soft, chubby, dimpled spot above her elbows and the strangely soft soles that only crawling babies can possess. i couldn't resist touching those two spots and fearing for the day when she will grow harder, both physically and mentally, out of necessity. i wish i could keep her at that age when she could be softly magnificent because she had countless people ready to protect her.

posted by happy roy @ 1:53 PM