Growing up, I was known for many reasons; I was known as Mr. Naidu’s daughter, for being smart, intelligent and a good speaker; I was known as Chirag’s sister, because he was famous for his sporting adventures and more importantly other infamous misadventures.
But profoundly people knew me as the girl with the long hair, and that I owe to my mother, though people looking at her now-thinning head would never ever believe. My hair was below-waste length, thick, black, and wavy. Invariably when I sat, I would sit on the lower end! It was quite literally a horse tail!
My mother had the loveliest hair, so my granny told me, so she told me herself, and so I saw for myself, in photos of Dad-Mum’s honeymoon on the hills of Mahableshwar. And here I was - a replica of Mrs. Juliet (Concessao) Naidu, with the same features, same looks and of course the Concessao legacy.
I got all the adoration and admiration one could hope for..
“O what lovely hair”
“O, what oil/shampoo do you use?”
“How do you manage your hair? You are so small, and they are so long..”
I never let mum or anyone touch my hair, I was perfectly capable of washing, drying and combing my hair; 2 braids in school, a single braid later on in college.
But one (wo)man’s blessing is another’s curse. I grew fed up with the routine of oiling, washing, drying my hair. I wanted to know what it felt like to have short hair, so that I could tie a pony and feel it bounce around; I wanted to for one day feel weightless around my neck; I wanted to try different hairstyles.
And so, what did I do? I proposed cutting them. The entire family was in an uproar.
Dad remarked “A man is not a man without his moustache, and a woman not a woman without her hair!” to which I said, “I’m just a girl...”
Mum rebuked me, “Don’t act crazy, once you cut them, they won’t grow again, look at me.” Mum too cut her hair, one day just like that, out of the blue, and it took Dad a whole day to figure out what was amiss about his young wife.
Granny said, “No!!” I sulked “Okay.”
A week later I walked into a parlour and cut them. Mum was standing beside me. The lady tried to discourage me, I think I cried, but I wanted to do it. They were cut to half their length. What the lady did with the severed hair makes for a whole different anecdote! Dad was furious, I was ecstatic, but the most bizzarre of all were the condolences and snubs I received from the neighbourhood and teachers in school; I never knew what fan following my hair had! Reactions ranged from surprise to shock, dismay to horror. But I was on cloud 9, so none of it really mattered.
As time went by, the length grew shorter; I did everything I wanted to, I experimented with different hairstyles, different lengths, even a boy-cut!
But then the excitement wore out and boredom set in. So just as one day I woke up and decided I wanted my hair short, I woke up a few years later and decided. “Okay I want my hair to grow back!” It’s been 4 years since that resolution and I’m glad to report they have been growing at a desired pace. They still do not cease to attract the comments they did when I was little. Instead I get the come-back-from-the-dead reaction, “O dear, they were so short, and now look at them..”
The moral of this story is that there comes a time when you get bored of routine, of paradigms, of regularities; you get bored of the same person you see in the mirror every morning. That calls for change. A change in your look or your outlook can make you feel different. I know what it did to me. I experimented though I managed to still spend the same amount of time in front of the mirror!! But that experimentation, that courage to take a chance, to do something because I wanted to do it, felt liberating. When I think of those years, I can tell people proudly, I did the unthinkable, I cut my long tresses, had hair-styles of varying lengths, even a boy-cut! And that gives me the feeling of been-there-done-that-proud-of-that. This attitude thankfully hasn’t left me; I still continue to take my chances, and I am amazed and pleased at the findings.
So if you are bored at a job, or bored without a job, or you’re depressed, take a chance, do something that makes you feel better, or view it in a different light. You may find something else that interests you, you may find a calling; it could be writing, singing, playing an instrument, photography, trekking, or simply a new hairstyle! Take a chance and you will see...
PS - I know hair is inanimate and addressed as ‘it’, but I always think of them in an animate form, besides there are so many of them, so excuse the apparent grammatical errors.
But profoundly people knew me as the girl with the long hair, and that I owe to my mother, though people looking at her now-thinning head would never ever believe. My hair was below-waste length, thick, black, and wavy. Invariably when I sat, I would sit on the lower end! It was quite literally a horse tail!
My mother had the loveliest hair, so my granny told me, so she told me herself, and so I saw for myself, in photos of Dad-Mum’s honeymoon on the hills of Mahableshwar. And here I was - a replica of Mrs. Juliet (Concessao) Naidu, with the same features, same looks and of course the Concessao legacy.
I got all the adoration and admiration one could hope for..
“O what lovely hair”
“O, what oil/shampoo do you use?”
“How do you manage your hair? You are so small, and they are so long..”
I never let mum or anyone touch my hair, I was perfectly capable of washing, drying and combing my hair; 2 braids in school, a single braid later on in college.
But one (wo)man’s blessing is another’s curse. I grew fed up with the routine of oiling, washing, drying my hair. I wanted to know what it felt like to have short hair, so that I could tie a pony and feel it bounce around; I wanted to for one day feel weightless around my neck; I wanted to try different hairstyles.
And so, what did I do? I proposed cutting them. The entire family was in an uproar.
Dad remarked “A man is not a man without his moustache, and a woman not a woman without her hair!” to which I said, “I’m just a girl...”
Mum rebuked me, “Don’t act crazy, once you cut them, they won’t grow again, look at me.” Mum too cut her hair, one day just like that, out of the blue, and it took Dad a whole day to figure out what was amiss about his young wife.
Granny said, “No!!” I sulked “Okay.”
A week later I walked into a parlour and cut them. Mum was standing beside me. The lady tried to discourage me, I think I cried, but I wanted to do it. They were cut to half their length. What the lady did with the severed hair makes for a whole different anecdote! Dad was furious, I was ecstatic, but the most bizzarre of all were the condolences and snubs I received from the neighbourhood and teachers in school; I never knew what fan following my hair had! Reactions ranged from surprise to shock, dismay to horror. But I was on cloud 9, so none of it really mattered.
As time went by, the length grew shorter; I did everything I wanted to, I experimented with different hairstyles, different lengths, even a boy-cut!
But then the excitement wore out and boredom set in. So just as one day I woke up and decided I wanted my hair short, I woke up a few years later and decided. “Okay I want my hair to grow back!” It’s been 4 years since that resolution and I’m glad to report they have been growing at a desired pace. They still do not cease to attract the comments they did when I was little. Instead I get the come-back-from-the-dead reaction, “O dear, they were so short, and now look at them..”
The moral of this story is that there comes a time when you get bored of routine, of paradigms, of regularities; you get bored of the same person you see in the mirror every morning. That calls for change. A change in your look or your outlook can make you feel different. I know what it did to me. I experimented though I managed to still spend the same amount of time in front of the mirror!! But that experimentation, that courage to take a chance, to do something because I wanted to do it, felt liberating. When I think of those years, I can tell people proudly, I did the unthinkable, I cut my long tresses, had hair-styles of varying lengths, even a boy-cut! And that gives me the feeling of been-there-done-that-proud-of-that. This attitude thankfully hasn’t left me; I still continue to take my chances, and I am amazed and pleased at the findings.
So if you are bored at a job, or bored without a job, or you’re depressed, take a chance, do something that makes you feel better, or view it in a different light. You may find something else that interests you, you may find a calling; it could be writing, singing, playing an instrument, photography, trekking, or simply a new hairstyle! Take a chance and you will see...
PS - I know hair is inanimate and addressed as ‘it’, but I always think of them in an animate form, besides there are so many of them, so excuse the apparent grammatical errors.
I loved the moral of the story. You have given me a thought for the day !
ReplyDeletehahaha...i guess ur hair was much longer than u!!! sorry..couldn stop myslf to tang kheechofy urs.. btw, long hairs...emmm...i can dump height...hehehe...
ReplyDeleteAhh...abt the write up..u kno how much i needed it..thanks