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I have all of a sudden fallen in love…. with my hair. All my life I could take it or leave it. Umm… well not exactly.  There was a brief period as a third grader when mother chopped off my shoulder length hair to a more (to her) manageable short summer cut. I had been heartbroken and did not wish to return to school in that mutilated state. I had to, but that’s a different story, already documented here.

Anyways, getting back to the present story, suddenly and just like that, love happened, as love does most always. There I was, least bothered about my hair for years together. In fact once mother had slackened her hold and let my hair be, instead of growing it to Rapunzel lengths like the visions I had had, I became more interested in cutting it into all sorts of lengths and fashion. I did not have much chance of doing that because of the spoil sport on the scene in the form of a Hitler Appooppan (Grandpa) who unexpectedly took over as Guardian and Preserver of Lengthy Hair on Heads of Close Relatives. Not that I let that cramp my style too much. In defiance to his explicit orders, I cut my hair to as short a length as I dared while still in college. But those are hairy-tales I have already talked about too.

Once again getting back to the crux of the present story (which is that I fell in love with my hair), one day, quite oddly enough, there I was falling for my own hair, wanting to grow it and loathe to let the stylist chop it. Some people might find that hard to believe. I mean they sort of think I have always been obsessed with my hair.  That was what a silly cousin of mine thought. And when I raised my eyebrows in disbelief at him and asked why he thought so, he said, it was because my hair looked good. Excuse me, that is the silliest reasoning that I have heard and psssst…. that’s exactly why I called him my silly cousin.

Nothing could be farther from the truth than what he suggested. In fact the first thing I tell the stylist is, ‘Only that cut which is easy to manage!” Not for me curlers or hair-straighteners or gels or setting/drying or whatnots. I want to just be able to run a comb through my hair and be done with it. More often than not, I don’t even do that. I make do with running my fingers through my hair. I swear that’s the truth. I am lazy that way. Give me the easiest way to do things and I’ll jump to accept it and make it my own way too. I marvel at people who insist on doing things the toughest way possible and then feel gratified by it.

Frankly speaking, it is nothing to my credit, this crowning glory of mine that is admired. It runs in the family and has been bequeathed me by ancestors who had even better hair on their heads. And now, at this late age, after having given it scarce a thought throughout my life so far, I have like a chump, gone and fallen in love with said hair. For the past year I have not paid a visit to a salon for fear that the stylist would chop off more than I was prepared to lose. But, the course of love is never smooth. Staying away from the salon has not been enough to save my tresses, sadly enough.

With due apologies to the believers in the Universe’s power to do good and get you what you want, I personally believe that the Universe is a meanie, just waiting to hear the term ‘love’ to put a spoke in the wheels of its smooth course. Anyway it heard me and chuckling gleefully went about doing the needful. The result is a bad back and the resultant unmanageability of a by now almost waist length hair.

Hair, to cut or not to cut? Here I am pondering once again. The question has made a second entry, a rather forced one, into my life. The circumstances that prompted the question are different this time around; they don’t leave me with a choice like before. Oh well, hair now gone tomorrow. I can almost see the glint in the hair stylist’s eyes as he gets ready with his scissors to go snip- snip.

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A note: For six years now I have been writing blogs, reading blogs and commenting on blogs. I have not taken a single day off. Now I am due for a sabbatical due to reasons of health. I will be back, in a week, ten days or may be two weeks or even more, I cannot say. Rest assured I will be back to torment you readers with more of my boring blogs. You might see this blog page getting updated with a couple of post dated in the coming weeks. Thank you for reading and sorry I won’t be answering comments in the weeks to come. I’ll do that when I am back. Ciao.