It was a hot afternoon in July. The heat inside the school bus
was making everyone sweat. The hot air blowing in from the rattling windows was
the only respite. A lot of water bottles were now empty. The Delhi heat had
turned my cheeks red and my hair was all over the place. Finally, my stop
arrived. ‘Maggi, Maggi…your hair looks like maggi noodles!’ someone commented
from behind. The rest of the kids burst out laughing. I don’t remember who said
it, but I do remember that I did not respond. I would have probably made a face
and swiftly got off the bus.
Later in the evening, I sat on the floor, at my grandmother’s
feet as she oiled my hair and tied it up neatly with ribbons into two braids on
either side. She told me it will help my hair grow. On Sunday, when I shampooed
my hair, it took on a totally different avatar. My mother lovingly admired, ‘The
curl falling on your forehead is like that of Michael Jackson!’ I smiled. It was a compliment since at
that point in time he was quite a star performer with a formidable fan following.
I happily brushed my hair that evening and went to meet my
cousins. My hair transformed into a big black halo around my head, bigger and
bad-er than a wild Lion’s mane. My cousin looked at me and said, ‘Sai Baba
hair!’. All through my teenage years, I mostly hated my hair. Most of my
friends seemed to have effortless, silky, straight hair that could be
maintained just by combing.
Once I started working and earned my own money, within the
first few months I blew up a huge portion of my salary on straightening my
hair. My hair was so stubborn that it refused to get tamed in the first go, so I
ended up getting it done twice to achieve the desired result. In the middle of
the process, I suddenly saw my mother storming into the parlor. ‘What are you
trying to do? You will end up going bald!’. Clearly, she didn’t like the idea
of me getting my hair marinated in chemicals. She was concerned.
But, at that age and time of life, I was experimenting with
my new-found freedom and my own money. I loved my new straightened hair. My
curls had been hiding the true length of my hair. I suddenly had long, straight
hair that hardly needed anything much to make it look like I had been to the salon.
I couldn’t stop admiring it in the mirror in the first few days.
As the months passed and my curls began to regrow from the
roots, the straightened part of my hair began to look lifeless. To me, it
looked like it was not a part of me, it was fake. One fine day I chopped it all
off, leaving me with short wavy hair. I was relieved to touch it and feel the ‘original’
stuff. Ever since then, I never felt the urge to get it straightened or re-bonded
again although I did experiment with different styles and lengths. At one point
I got it cut into such a short style that my husband said I looked like a boy!
About a year ago, I went for a haircut and the young stylist
looked at my damp hair and said, ‘Lovely curls!’ and he styled it beautifully and
naturally without using direct heat. I immediately loved the look and realized it
was easy to do it on my own. More recently, I got acquainted to the CG methods
and started using some of the natural products made for curly hair. While, I am
not great at using it and haven’t worked hard at mastering the techniques
involved, I do see a change and I like it, since it is naturally me and does
not involve using heat and chemicals to punish my hair to become something that
it is clearly not.
Even in movies and magazines, the models and actresses
rarely have curly hair. They mostly have straight hair or stylish waves. Its
only when characters have a wild side or a brave side, they are shown to have
curly hair. Think of the red-haired princess in Brave or Tapsee Pannu in Pink. Mostly,
straight hair is the norm, just like being a certain size, weight or height is.
Anything else feels like being a minority. I do realize that I had been trying
to tame and torture my hair to confirm to a certain standard, to make it appear
like something which it is naturally not. Now, I have accepted that my hair has a
mind of its own and I am learning to give it unconditional love (in the form of
CG products).
Last year, during Durga Puja, as I opened my eyes after praying and looked up at the ten-armed Goddess Durga, I noticed her hair. It was long and gorgeously curly. A childish voice inside me said, ‘It’s the Goddesses who have curly hair!’ I smiled and closed my eyes in prayer again.