Can't forget the day when I noticed the first grey hair nestled in the jet black dense jungle...... it jabbed me somewhere inside and then the realisation dawned.....yes me too. The pangs continued coming with each new addition. The frequency, of course was not so worrying but nevertheless, they kept appearing. At First only the ones seen over the forehead were visible. Then slowly it became noticeable within roots on several areas of the scalp. Hmmm...... time waits for none. At first whatever few strands greyed randomly were camouflaged by the dominating jet black ones.
As years passed on, they were progressing and the areas just above the ears were decently greyed. After you settle down on the barbers’ chair, he promptly puts the royal robe, which I always suspect needs a royal wash however shining it may seem, and then proceeds to give, a kind of, push behind your head as a sign to bow down before the mirror and stay put like that for the initial clipping. After the clackety-clack begins, you can't help but notice the clumps falling on the royal robe, which few moments ago graced your nut. After the discovery of grey strands, the degree of grey in these clumps was a sure indicator of how many of them you have all around. The mirror only shows you what the eye can easily see. The real measure are those clumps of chopped hair falling free from the barbers scissors. In early days when the clumps had mostly black hairs, the barber usually ended the ceremony by brushing aside the tiny ones and asking "Bas karu ya aur kam karu...." As the years went , this changed to "Saab....dye karna hai kya?" Well, when for the first time this was asked to me, the realisation sunk in that now I have really grown older. Grey hairs, certainly made him to add that "Sahab…" Wow! Greying must really add to your grace. But that instant itself, I shot back firmly like Chloromint advertisement "Nahi!!! Aur doobara mat poochna!" While I was delivering this, the barber had kind of expression on his face which said, “Kab tak bachega!! “ In Chloromint ad the customer’s nut is banged repeatedly, but here I felt like banging his nut on the nearest wall! Maybe because, by saying yes, he could understandably get one more bakra in his net for 50-60 bucks, guaranteed every month, and my looks certainly was his least concern.
Money was the last thing I had on mind when I brushed aside his suggestion. Somehow, the idea of trying to look younger never appealed to me. At heart, of course, I am always around 24, even though I am in mid 40's now. As years breezed by the tone gradually changed and I started sporting a mature look with sides full of grey. Even the mustache which was spared in the early years commenced its journey towards grey.
Finally last month, I gave in to the demands from several quarters....more so from my in-laws side who I think were keen to keep me at par with my wife’s still jet black top (Why Bengali ladies have jet black hair for long is a topic for another blog). Eventually, the stage was set. My brother-in-law actually procured all the necessary potions, brushes, etc. etc. and handed them over to me to get in action for the changed look for a wedding attendance. By then, I too thought, what the heck... let me do it once and check the results. As I began pasting the grimy herbal stuff all over my nut, my ten year old daughter waited on eagerly for the new look I would be getting in an hours’ time. She devotedly guided me to paste at places which were not reflected in the mirror. The instructions on the pack said, wait for an hour before washing it off. By now even I was curious what the result would be and waited patiently for the clock to tick the required one hour.
Two pairs of eyes were glued outside the bath waiting for me to come out. They both burst out laughing aloud by the transformation and the moment I looked in the mirror I too did the same . My first reaction was that I resemble "Quick Gun Murugan" with a jet black top and matching mustache! My, what did I do to myself! I turned myself into a joker from the matured gentleman and the worst part is it can’t be washed off. I threw myself into the vicious circle of dye-grow-dye and keep dyeing till............till substantial hairs remain on my head.
Well, now I am looking forward to my next visit to the barber and wait for the glee on his face at my modified top.
Even as I finish typing this, the feeling in my mind is…….better age gracefully and accept whatever top I have.
