Letting my hair down

Every once in a while, i feel like my head is getting heavier. No pounding headaches or office stress. Its just the hair. This thick jet black wiry mane that i inherit from my mum's side of the gene pool. Growing up, i always threw up a tantrum while my mum led me to the parlor to get me a bi-annual haircut. I had little luck in preventing the inevitable, since the parlor was in my neighbour's house. All mum did was bundle me over the knee-high compound , and i'd come back home with the cutest bob. I dreamed about long hair and ponytails, stunned into admiration by the numerous ads on the telly and the movies. Only mum knew better about this stubborn fuzz which she recognised from her own experience. She foresaw the potential burden my hair would become when it came to regular headbaths and daily plaiting. Not to mention the lice !

So when i finally bloomed into a teenager, i had my way and grew my hair long enough to have pigtails. My parents headed out of town to serve their terms of 'deployment' and i was completely responsible for my hair-care. I waged a struggling battle for 2 yrs, before i put my arms down and crossed the compound for my haircut. That was the last time i ever wanted to have long hair. As for mum, she just put on her smug 'told-you-so' smile.

Once during my college years, i dared to go for a new 'look' and i came out with this fringe hanging across my forehead. I took one look at the mirror and hated it. But i put on a brave face and headed home. Dad said it was bad and mum said i looked cute. My friends loved it. I was on the train home after visiting my relatives, after one more day of contrasting reactions to my latest hairdo, when i read this quote in Readers digest....
" The best thing about a bad haircut is that it eventually grows out "
This helped me through the next few months until i was ready to have my hair snipped again.

Very recently, after i tried hard to grow my hair for the customary moggin jade ( roughly translates to jasmine plait ) in a wedding, i was anxious to have a haircut after almost a year. I arrived at the salon even before they opened their shutters and was eagerly waiting for a quick cut. Midway through, one other stylist came by and started touching my hair with a longing that im too familiar with. She gathered these emotions and said with a sigh " Bhagwan jisko jo chahiye woh nahin deta.... "  ( God never grants a boon to the needful ) . And while i kept asking her to cut my hair a wee bit higher, it turned out to be shorter than i'd dared to go in quite a few yrs.

Personally, i loved it. I headed straight to my mums workplace, and she said i look adorable.
Dad lectured me about how i'm married and i shouldn't be snipping my hair short. Some friends chided me, while some reiterated my mums opinion. My sister-in-law who's a teenager said i looked cute. And she repeated the same statement over the next 2 weeks. The men in my team took a good 2 hrs to notice. My ex-roomie took 3 mins, which is still bad going by her standards. The younger cousins loved it, while the aunts frowned and inquired. Some were scandalized, while some just pinched my cheeks. From where i stand , it feels as if the world is split between people who like my haircut, and people who dont. 

Comments

vikas mk said…
I agree with the hair stylist.From where I stand it feels as if the world is split between people who have hair (and blog about it) and those who don't . :D
Nam said…
awww i love the bob. big fan. but i do believe its a federal crime to cut hair as lovely as that

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