The fault is not mine.
Surely its not mine.
Trust me the fault is not at all mine.
If you have to blame, Blame with a caps B, then blame it to Indiblogger.
Yes, IndiBlogger only made my hair look North leaving the usual West to East laid curly hairy path. Today is the last day and I am yet to submit what I have been thinking for days together!!! I felt that the hard surface below my tangy curly hairs had gone blank. The tank had dried down of all ideas. Devastated with the dryness, i chanced upon my Treasure. Those Black & White four by four sized gems were all around neatly fixed with Golden corners on a black hard paper. Yes, it was those images of childhood which I had not seen for quite some days. Flipping through it, I had hit the jackpot. There was one thing common in all those graying pictures of yesteryear, the word with H: Hair. The ladies of our house loved playing with their hair and Dad loved clicking them with his Black & White Box camera. Yupppy I had HIT the Jackpot!!!
The very next moment I was looking for my cell, dialing for my Di, way back in India, to join me for a Yahoo! Chat. She was shell shocked as we never had chatted before. Dad being in Telecom Department, we were born with a phone in the house. Unless we talk, we are not satisfied. Ting!!! And there she is - My DI, who loved me more than my other two Brothers. Being youngest in the family pays.
After exchanging few moments on chat, I was back to my selfish reason :
“Di, I was going through the Treasure, you and ma were so fond of your hair and loved playing with it. Tell me something about your life’s journey with those curly dark and long ones.”
“I guessed it right, you are again into something, Right??. Not me spare me darling..got many things to do than to get into your crazy ideas..spare me” Di said, she guessed me right…
“ Di please, you loved flaunting yourself, I saw those “lousy” white Bell-Bottoms with metal buttons all around of 70s. Yucks!!!!! you looked so Horrible.” I knew she would not spare me on this as, it was her most favorite dress and picture of her beautiful adolescent days.
“Shut up you rascal (she loved calling me this, I was her Darling Dennis- “the menace”). I guess you missed my bell bottoms and the hair in the pic”
“ Yeah Di, your hair looked awesome. But a BOYish cut would have looked more attractive”. I threw my Bait, my Di took it. Hair CUT!!! Crossed my fingers…here it comes..
“Shut up don’t even utter that word, you know it..” Buttering her a bit, after which I am sure she would not stop.
“Di how about sharing something on “life with your hair on your head”? I know the rules DI, when you go down memory lanes you don’t stop and I don’t interrupt. “Go Di Go….shoot Di”. I was thinking…
“My hair, like me, had gone into its own phases. I hated my hair once. Who wouldn’t have. Every summer, we would go to our village and the torture would start. Dadi (Grand Mother) would take me on our roof with her big bottle of Coconut Oil and massage my life out. Ohnoooo how much I hated those moments, oil, ribbon and pleats..yuck!!!! .”
“I know Di”
“ Dadi’s head massage and the same teachings every day would make me yuck. I could narrate her words back even before she could force me into this daily rituals”.
“What were those rituals Di.” Trying to explore if I could get some hints for the post.. (grinning) cruel me.
“ 3 things you must learn beta.. Dadi will say,
1. A neat long healthy hair is the most beautiful part of a woman. It enhances or damages your personality. So never ever neglect it.
2. 100 combs every night and 3 minutes of scalp massage, makes your hair healthy and shine.
3. Keep it clean , more cleaner than your body…” Di continued.
“You know what, things I learnt during those torturous moments, I still practice. What started as a torture became a ritual.”