Treat your body like a temple is a phrase I’ve heard quite a bit.

Unfortunately I’ve acquired a taste for the Tamas and Rajas Gunas so what enters it isn’t always the most in terms of Sattva.

I’ll start with the one most desi mothers hate.

Tattoos

My arm has most of them, a small Trishul with a damaru and Om was the first. Later it was joined by an old depiction of the Sudarshana Chakra. A geometric Ganesha before he broke his tusk to write for Vyasa. The head of Hanuman in his Thai variety.

My leg is more simple. One of the Prakhar Pragya Sajal Shraddha in front of a backdrop of the Himalayas. Below it, a verse from Chapter 64 of the Dao De Jing in Chinese calligraphy, “A journey of a thousand li starts beneath one’s feet”.

Trinkets

For most of my 20s I’d wear a tilak of bhasma from Shantikunj’s morning yagyas after doing my darshan to a small altar. Always between one and two feet carrying symbols for my Guru, Mataji, Dayananda Saraswati, Vivekananda, Aurobindo, the One Facing South, and the Remover of Obstacles. Forget when I stopped, but I have at least one corporate photo early enough in the day before it brushed off.

Earrings came at the start of my 20s. Mother threatened a fast if I didn’t take them out. So I got another. One ear has two small gold hoops, the other has a drop-sized stud.

My wrists get their own story.

As a teenager I was interested in Jyotish and stones. Never was able to find a good teacher or resource, so in my late 20s I said fuck it, I’m an adult, I can buy my own damn rings.

My left pinky has a small silver ring made in London with an emerald sourced from South America.

My right ring finger used to carry a similar ring with a synthetic ruby, though I stopped wearing it shortly after leaving.

Preordered a Pebble Index. Bought a damn 3d printer with the AMS for the sizing kit. Y’all better not disappoint or there will be an angry worded letter.

My neck has had a more diverse journey. The first one that stuck was a simple black thread that kept a Rudraksh seed centered around the base of my throat. I forget exactly how many, but somewhere between 10 to 15 years I wore it. It was from one of the sants who performed a birthday puja for me early in my double digits.

In my mid 20s, I started wearing malas consistently. I was doing a fair amount of jap and I didn’t like wrapping it around my wrist. A Rudraksh one with small seeds, a lotus one that was massive enough I had to wrap around a couple times, and a half sized Rudraksh one with big beads. Stopped wearing them by my late 20s.

The latter two were gifted to me by a friend who runs the S3 Gaushala. The gais are a blast to chill with. Basically giant dogs.

Same friend’s presents still occupy my neck’s inventory slot. A plain red rope. Originally he had given it with a silver Sri Yantra. In my late 20s I swapped it for a simple green rock he gave me during one of the drives up I made with my pup.

Zero-drop Chelsea boots made by some dudes on the internet from Türkiye. Love boots, hate laces.

A pen. For a long time a Pilot Hi-Tec C Maica with a 0.3mm tip. Ink refills got harder to come by so I made the switch to fountain. The Pilot Prera with both the Fine and rarer Extra Fine tip is phenomenal pen. Ink is a dangerous hobby to collect. But c’mon Pilot, please just sell me the individual nibs.

When I’m not flying, a small blade. A Benchmade Mini Bugout I picked up from an REI sale after moving to Austin.

And this is the fun one, being a Texan I need to have a big belt buckle. So I have just that, one made in the great state of Maine. With a maple and walnut wood pieces sourced from sustainable forests, forming an image of mountains with the coordinates 31°4′0″N 81°18′45″E.

Missed the memo. Apparently the phrase was supposed to mean taking care of your body.