Lent arrives quietly—ashes on foreheads, habits interrupted, the world slowing down just enough to notice. My first Ash Wednesday as an adult, I was living in Chennai, riding the local train to college after an early service. I had forgotten about the smudge until I caught my reflection in the window. A man across from me was staring—not hostile, just aware. I almost wiped it off. I did not. I am still not entirely sure why. Maybe I wanted to be the kind of person who did not wipe it off.
