Friday, April 23, 2010


Her hair came undone, the curls falling delicately over her shoulders. She looked all around her. Suffused in a pink glow. The white bark of the eucalyptus was radiant, chipping but with a shimmer of a fresh pearl. She felt the bark under her pink fingertips looking down at the long shadows being cast. The shadows swayed on the gravel pathway, dainty and ethereal. She looked up to those leaves that made them, gentle, swaying ,the branches bowing down to touch the ground. She sensed the sun peek in and out through the leaves, the stray srands of hair on her forehead glistening in the dusk lights. She stood enraptured at every sound, the rustle of the leaves, the wind entangling her locks, the cuckoo in her sweetest and of the voices around. The plants around her plush, green and vibrant whispered of hope. It stirred a music in her very being ; a thread of rhythm flowing through her veins. Overwhelmed was she, as every gamut of emotion struck a melody, a symphony known only to her; a harmony of all that she saw, heard and felt.
And then it fell, resting upon her long eyelashes, as clear as a crystal. She opened her palms to feel it. Wet and cold , flowing through her fingers onto the parched earth. The incense; that of the earth ,its thirst quenched. It sparkled,the colours bouncing off it as rays flitted across. The grey above with solar streaks left an orange tinge around.
It felt like life washed away;and yet it felt like being a being again...
She moved,like the wind,through every drop which touched her skin. She felt it on every niche in her being,every curve of her body, every corner of her soul; infused with the tones to which she danced.
" Raindrops keep falling on my head,
But that doesn't mean my eyes would soon be turning red,
Crying's not for me,
Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complainin'
Because I am free,
Nothing's worrying me"
Yes she saw it, heard it, and felt it.
and then on her lips, partook of it, brackish and fresh, tears and smiles, despair and joy.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Bad Hair Day...anyone?

This post was long due...for all those times that my mind seems not to be preoccupied with something or the other..these are the thoughts that usually fill in..
A little scratch through my wiry hair suffices enough to say that its the very "wiryness" I am pondering about.
PS : With due respect to those who muse over greying and thinning (:P)
I am one among you too...
So am I happy with my inheritance??... is what I am unable to decide most of the time.
This saga commenced 22 years ago..when there were gasps of 'oohs and aahs' by old kanjeevaram clad ladies who would do anything to slobber up your cute baby face with oodles of watery kisses and having done that would fondly twiddle their fingers around the tuft of hair on the head.. and with long sighs of happiness exclaim " oh so! The baby is going to be such a Rapunzel."
Yes there were standards set and pedestials to reach upto on which I shall elucidate, further on.
So the baby, innocent and unaware of the targets set before it..trundles on in daily life.
( The baby in particular was a cute cherubic thing with beady black eyes and curly black locks. Ahem!!! Am I sounding too full of myself *wink* ?? The aftermath is a part of the plight I have had to deal with till now and maybe all my life.. sniff )
So comes the age old Hindu ritual of tonsuring the baby's hair, with due respect to all the evil eyes they wanted removed and better future and luck they wanted to ensure( still wondering when they shall take effect). And so ended the dream of the beautiful "to be rapunzel" locks.
The child still unaware of the misery it was destined to live with was much too happy with a close crop( read: The delhi heat is too much to bear).
Mother decided in two years that now was the time to cultivate the scalp endowments.( It didnt really make much of a difference to the child who was much above these "hairy" issues then )and just when it was in process; there goes another "mundan" as it is called ( I really wonder when will all those rituals work in my favour).
I faced it...
I was three and was " Ganju Patel teri khopdi mein tel!!!!"
and so I sported a close crop almost all my childhood and teenage years. I loved it. I felt free (saves you the heat!! yes I was blessed with quite a thick endowment ). Never paid heed to the forlorn looks of my father who always wished that his daughter would be a well oiled two braided "ponnu" from a Tam Brahm family.
Instead my days were spent adjusting my hairlook to that of Diana or admiring Kiran Bedi. In my teens my obsession with Rowling's hero made me want to sport his style more(victim and that too of a grave " hairy" injustice).
Yes I have not inherited my mother's hair nor my father's. I have neither straight and silky like his nor wavy like hers. A long line of women in my family have had braids enough to draw gasps of admiration. I am the black sheep.
I merely have a shape shifter. Something that is wiry, frizzy,wild and difficult to tame, affected by water at every place but there are days when they are beautiful, curly locks or when they are straight and set, wavy and fall lucidly over my forehead. Time and again hairdressers give up. My scalp is a task. They work their way to make it look as presentable as they can.
I sport shoulder length hair now with red streaks..yes it looks wonderful somedays( guess my father thinks I am more of a taint now than ever).
But I just feel I have had too many bad hair days to last me for a life time.