Black linework tattoo of an om symbol inside a ring framed by lotus flowers and leaves, placed on the side of the ribs.

Om symbol and lotus flowers on the ribs

Botanical · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows an om symbol centred inside an open, teardrop-shaped ring, with lotus blooms and leaves along the top and bottom of the ring. It is drawn in solid black outlines and the petals are left unshaded, so the skin shows through, with no grey or colour. The close-up photo shows the tattoo on the side of the torso beneath a dark sleeveless top.

Botanical Ribs Om Lotus Flower Leaves Circle Symbol

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The hum came up through the floorboards of the Sunrise Cafe at half past one, the way it always did when Dev left the extractor fan running. I was on my knees on the wet pavement with a tin of black enamel, lining out the last letter of the name above the shutter, and the street smelled of tarmac and cumin. Somewhere over Cheetham Hill a bin lorry reversed, beeping like a slow heart.

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Mrs Acharya had asked for a symbol her husband used to chalk on the step every morning before he died. She showed me a sketch on a paper napkin: the sacred syllable, curled like a sleeping snail, sitting inside a ring that tapered at the top like a drop about to fall. Round the ring she wanted lotus flowers, the blooms and the leaves, all in outline. No colour. No shading. I told her the rain would wash the wall grey around them in a month, and she said that was the point. A lotus comes up out of mud and stays clean, she said, and she tapped the napkin twice, as if that settled the matter.

So I drew the petals and left them empty. I ran the ring in one unbroken stroke, then the leaves, then the curl of the syllable, and I kept my hand light enough that the brick showed through each petal like a window with no glass. Dev came out at four with two cups of chai and stood watching, the hum still in his throat, and said nothing for a long time.

At dawn the shutter rolled up with a rattle that woke the pigeons. The first sun caught the empty petals and they glowed the colour of the wall, bright where the paint had not gone. Dev set his cup on the step, closed his eyes, and hummed the note once more, low, and the lotus stayed as clean as she had promised.