Close-up of a black lettering tattoo in Devanagari script on the inner wrist, beside a hand holding a bunch of copper rings set with raw opal stones.

Devanagari script tattoo on a wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A hand holding a cluster of copper rings, each set with a rough opal stone that shows pale blue, green and lilac flashes, against a plain white background. The tattoo on the inner wrist is a bold black Devanagari script with solid, slightly feathered strokes. The composition is tightly framed on the hand and wrist, with the ink and the opal colours as the main points of interest.

Lettering Forearm Script Wrist Hand Ring Jewellery

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The letter came up in the lift with the gas bill, folded in thirds, the stamp steamed off at one corner. Mrs Oyelaran on the ninth floor read the envelope for me because my eyes are bad in the stairwell light. She held it to the window and said, "Somebody is angry, or somebody is sorry. Same shapes."

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I took it down to the workshop under the stairs, where the copper smelled of vinegar and the electrolyte bath hummed all night. For eleven years I had been wrapping opal chips in wire for Dev Mistry, who sold them from a unit off the ring road, and I had never once asked where the rough came from. The letter was from Jaipur. It was written in the careful hand my uncle used on the backs of his seed packets. It said the boxes were ready, that the third box held the one with blue fire in it, and that there would be no fourth.

I sat with that until the bath had cooled. Then I took flat-nosed pliers and bent a ring from a length of copper, the way I had watched him do when I was nine, the stone seated so the light could reach it from three sides. It came out crooked. I left it crooked. Upstairs, Mrs Oyelaran had the kettle on, and I slid the ring onto the first finger she offered me. It fitted. She turned her hand to the window and laughed at the lilac catching the grey light, and said the crooked one was the honest one.