I am at the gym the other day, with a back issue of The New Yorker – I see a poem entitled “Dothead” written by someone with an Indian name (Amit Majmudar) – so of course I’m going to read it.
“Well yes, I said, my mother wears a dot…” The last few lines are (for lack of a better word) awesome - with a reference to Nataraja.
Full poem here. Maybe I’ll start sending my kids to school with a ketchup packet.
Image from our Bindi Baby Books
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