And you thought nail paint in a tiny vial with miniature brush is enough to paint toe nails! Perhaps you have not heard of Nan, then. Her toes are so colossal that even a bucket of paint is inadequate. Nan is gigantic and painting her nails can be wearisome, but in Ayutthaya, the ancient capital of Thailand, I was waiting for Nan, the Songkran Festival parade showstopper.
The sun was raging, the champa was swaying in the placid breeze and the barbet was hammering her raucous call. Dressed in denim dungarees and green Birkenstock, I barely looked the perfect salon lass, but on the Thai new year day I happily volunteered to lend a hand to Nan.
In the corner lay a bucket of paint and a mammoth paint brush. And I waited. Not for the 33 kings who ruled Ayutthaya between 1350 and 1767, not for the scruffy soldiers who fought 70 battles, not even for Buddha, the reigning deity, who is worshipped on Songkran Festival. In the Old City that was built by King U Thong 650 years ago, I waited for Nan. With a bucket of pink paint.
The streets were lined with earthen pots spilling with water, children looked muddy with cassava flour paste on their face, orchids and marigolds lay strewn at the feet of Buddha idols, stern cops manned the streets, and monks in sorrel robes chanted hymns. Everyone was wearing chintz, everyone had a water pistol, everyone was ready to gambol.
For it was no ordinary day – Songkran (it is derived from the Sanskrit word Sankranti) is the beginning of the Thai new year when idols are cleansed, ancestors are worshipped, Khao Chee, a scrumptious rice dish, is cooked and rambunctious youngsters spray water on revellers and bystanders.
Suddenly, I heard a grunt. Nan was waddling in, her ebony skin painted in yellow paisleys and red daisies, her toes grimy, her skin caked. I dipped the brush in the pink emulsion and applied the first coat on her big toe. She snorted adoringly.
BUDDHA’S PROMISE
Okay, I am not the ideal salon lass, but Nan was no cute Cleopatra either. It took a bucket of paint and a several minutes to coat those nails. Nan looked pretty and pedicured. I was still hunched over the paint when a splash of water startled me; I was drenched to the last sinew. Ah! the mischievous Nan!
Source: http://articles.economictimes.indiatimes.com/2011-06-23/news/29694781_1_nan-paint-water-pistol