|something like this, i wore|
Jun 26, 2012
I don’t write in English…but have dared to do so once again for love of hair…. apologies….
Writing a post had never been such a noisy affair for me ever since I started keying in my thoughts. Yeah, it was quite a noisy prolusion. The reason to this is very simple “what the hell am I going for? Writing a post where a would have Diva done the best job!!! Writing a post on HAIR !!!” Never mind. I had to calm down those noisy effervescence and decided to uncurl the thoughts. People have myriads of signs to their identities. I had mine through those Lovely-Non-Living-Black-Curly pieces of strands all over my head. Born weighing less than a liter of mineral water bottle (yes you read it right I was 2 pounds only), the chunk of hair I had on my head made a good fraction of it. Mesmerized with my length and breadth of the body and chunk of hair, my grandpa kept craving for more.. “Dil Maange More”. Farmer in him believed in “Shave off frequently and churn a good crop”. Guess that would have made me go for it almost three to four rounds of it. I could vouch for this with all my Black & White pictures with Grandpa. He was with his silvery hair in all and me with shining emptiness. While I was growing up, I was not very surprised to see two hairy siblings already existing before me. Three of us- young men grew up in a world where “Hippy culture” was dominant in 70s and the head man of our house, our Dad, a silent admirer of this culture. That’s why he never believed in short hair. We grew up with head high and hair furling. Hiding, Locking and guessing a pencil in Hair was our favorite game; for three of us whenever we got grounded for all good(???) reasons. Not to say we were “famous 5s” oops “famous 3s” in neighborhood for our Black-Curly-Natural turban on Head. Growing from skinny stature to now big-hefty self, I crowned tags like “Sai Baba”, “Hair Bear” and many more during school and college days. Not to forget the one liner of a friend–“you look too sexy with you pee-hair on your head”. Writing on hair for me is thus fully justified.
God knows when the adolescence striked on me, probably when I started discovering the fairer sex. When folks of my age loved to discuss the vitals, I would go blank beyond the beautiful Eyes and long wavy Hairs. Yes, I loved them, in all length all colors and all styles. While my life’s own philosophy was somewhere around “The worse the haircut, the better the man”; for the fairer sex, I agreed with King Martin Luther said : “The hair is the richest ornament of women”. The concepts kept on building while my hair kept going low and high at barber’s scissors. Martin would have been more like me, who did agree that it was not only an ornament for women; it reflected the mood the woman is in. Every strand of hair reflected so much of a woman’s mood. When the lady is in right balanced frame of self, the hair wore a pleated, combed, styled look. She goes high and the every strands get pixilated. She gets mad and the hair goes screwballed. I would go nuts reading the curvy drooly black styled hair of a women. Yes I was growing perfectly.
The more engrossed you get, more you get possessed. Almighty blessed my Wishes . He sent one, a soul sitting next to me in my office, one fine morning. She had just joined as my colleague. We looked at each other, stared each other, tongue tied, kept working ignoring each others presence. Ice broke after few hours. She loved my new Watch and she complemented . Still I could not utter and let her know, I was already in love with her waist-long-curly hair and her looks. Mesmerized by the volume, the quality and the wavy built of the hair, I was like jaw-stuck with my lower jaw dropped and refusing to return back. I could not even say thanks for her complement on my watch. She was just awesome and yes, I did took out my Imaginary book of hairy philosophy to write a new chapter-this time Her Hair. She loved her hair as much as I did hers. Hairs tangled, we matched, we loved, I wrote, she read, we married. Love blossomed and a hairy Angel was born.
The lil Angel brought all the Happiness in our lives and made us move to Dubai for love of Money. I got busy with my career and she with the Angel. Life takes its toll and City its own. Dubai gave us money, at the expense of her precious possession – her hair. The one asset we both were madly love in. Water, climate and dust were taxing her precious beauty. Hair started falling every time she brushed, every time she shrugged. There were hair all around on the floor. She had very little time for herself. They say when a Girl metamorphoses to a Mother, she forgets the Girl in herself. My beautiful Mother who herself has long wavy hair, once pacified me “Don’t worry too much, woman are like this”. How could I not worry, Ma? I tried all ways to persuade my Girl to take out time for herself and care for herself. But, She loved clinging to young one more.
Archimedes would not have jumped off the bath tub and ran crying “Eureka”, the way I did one weekend; while pampering myself in my Big Bath Tub chilling with chilled beer and aromatic candles. Eureka!!!, I had a got solution to my problem. The very next evening while onway back home, from office, I was in a shopping mall, looking for my stuffs. There were plenty of it in all colors and all Brands. To a homo-sapien, who hated shopping all his life was looking for shampoos and oils at Cosmetic Stands!!!! God would vouch for me when I say, I am one very bad in shopping. My lady made me worse, making all the shopping herself. My eyes got stuck to my favorite cosmetic brand of soap, yes the only cosmetic product I ever used- Dove. I have been using Soaps from Dove for years. Guess what!!! even wrote a sort poem on it http://chaupal-ashu.blogspot.com/2012/02/blog-post_21.html . The soap I loved for its aroma and its love on my skin as it never left a scratched white line on my skin. I scratched myself to test it, learning the trick from the Dove Ads. I trusted the brand as I only knew it. Within minutes, I was with Bagful of Dove products-not to add all that with tag of “ Damage Therapy”.
The D-Day looked long but the weekend arrived. I would not have waited this way (with all Dove Hamper neatly hidden) till a weekend. I proposed to give her a head massage while the little monster was busy taking a nap in late morning. She had a hysterical laugh, “Massage and You???”. Reluctantly, but she agreed. I took out the oil and started massaging her hair. I had hit the nerve. The pleasure mounted. She loved it, she loved the feel, she loved the oil, she loved the aroma that goes with. After a good head massage which I learnt on the Youtube video, she surrendered on and on to its pleasure. The massage of head slipped to neck and then it was all over. Dove Cream Oil (Shea Butter Body Lotion), the mildly aromatic, Non-Greasy, Body lotion did its trick, which definitely was an incentive offered to remain hooked up to plan. A chapter was added in my book, the joy of massaging (of course your own lady love ;-) ) a loved one. [PS: Guys try this out…its fun doing it..gals experience the feeling..its awesome]. It was oil yet no oil, all around and the session that paused, for a dive into our beautifully decorated place of relaxation- our Bath Tub and lighted Aromatic Candles all around. Dove suited the ambience. Its mild perfumes in all its products suited our taste. It was another session of Shampooing and Moisturizing together. Dove Hair Therapy Shampoo and Dove conditioner did the magic. The lather was perfect, the touch was smooth and did all the trick to keep her enjoying. It was an Awesome “Love session” or do I call it a “Dove Session”. She loved it and she never said no to head massages even this day on. A weekend of L(d)ove Pleasure added up with brief foreplay of head massages on some nights in between the weekends. This continued for many weekends…and I loved the sessions and she loved the relaxations…
She thought I was naughty and loved the new play all these days without ever thinking what I was doing to her hair. Few months later, with Home grown Spa Masseur and Dove Treatment, the hair fall stopped. it gave back what the little angel teaming with Dubai weather had tried to shed out and that was the end of my hair problems!’ My hair Problems??? Yes, it indeed was…..
It’s couple of year now. The little monster has grown into a Handsome little Darling. No, he has straight thick Hair. Her hair would meet the waist line very soon. She now loves to display the curly hair lock. The girl in her is back, she pampers frequently with Dove ranges. Bath tub displays a Virgin white look with Dove ranges all around. I can’t afford a Sai Baba look or believe in “The worse the haircut, the better the man”. Thanks to Dove for instigating me to pen down the experience through their contest [ http://www.indiblogger.in/topic.php?topic=58 ] that was deep hidden in us for so long. And, thanks for a chance to pen down memories of a “Love Affair oops a Dove Affair”…..