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Nope, I am not going to tell you a fifty-five-word story. It is just that I have completed as many years as fifty-five on Planet Earth (sigh, so far from my Neptunian home), and thought I’d let the world know of the matter. I mean, it is not every day that one hits twin digits, is it now? The last time it happened was ten years back and it will take another ten long years for the next to roll around. Though it may not be as important a landmark as the golden jubilee one, I might as well make the best of the one at hand. Right? So here I am writing a post, which is as good as it can get as a birthday treat as far as a blogger is concerned.

You know something? I bet you don’t, naturally so. In recent days, I have been looking into the mirror a lot more than before. Ha, I dare you to say in that supercilious manner, ‘but all women do’ having swallowed (and digested) the tripe projected left, right and centre by movies, literature and ads, not to mention the aam janta‘s (un)wise sayings. Nothing could be farther from the truth. A study (whose link I am still searching) says that while most women look at their reflections when they pass by a mirror (now listen closely and assimilate), ALL of the men, yes, 100% of them, glance at themselves in the mirror, when they pass by one. How is that for exploding myths?! Anyway, that has nothing to do with my preoccupation with the mirror these days. And in case you were wondering, nope,  it is not about checking the spread of wrinkles either.

Finally, f.i.n.a.l.l.y, after all the accusations and assumptions and curiosity (which unfortunately did not kill the curious unlike how it did the proverbial cat, more’s the pity), I have started (drum-roll, please!) graying, visibly so (drumroll again), at least enough for some people to heave a sigh of relief and get their blood pressure down to normal levels. But wait. The does not answer why I glance at the mirror more often when I pass it thisaway and thataway! Another and final drum roll, please. I have fallen in love with the whites that have sprung up on either side of my head and cannot help but check on them every now and then. But still, it is short of the 100% from the experiment conducted, mind you!

Let me tell you, this business of Going Grey is a pretty liberating experience. Don’t ask me why. It just is. It frees you, this ability to be able to part your hair exactly where the whites have set up colony, prior to conquering and annexing more territory, till one day, they own the whole place. I am curious about that day when the whites shall rule. Considering how most people refuse to let salt show through (Nope, I am not judging, just observing), I am wont to believe I’d be one of the rare few and THAT my dears is exhilarating, just being different. To be fair, if there were more of salt and pepper around, I’d probably go dye my hair blue or pink or green, just for the heck of it. I still might, who knows. I am keeping my options open.

Just the other day, I was standing in the queue to get movie tickets and I overheard the young girls behind me suddenly switch topics and start discussing grey hair and how some people do not dye their hair on time. I can bet my bottom rupee, that it was the peeping whites on either side of my head that started off their change in discussion. They probably thought I was late in visiting the parlor and duly covering up the emerging whites, little knowing how I cherished them, enjoyed showing them off, checked on their progress in the mirror whenever I got the opportunity.

Well, this is not great shakes as a birthday post. But then I simply had to write that tribute, welcoming the multiplying whites who shall one day rule my head, and I sincerely hope they do so for long, with an iron hand, clinging to my head, never falling off, being swept into dustbins of ignominy. Besides, there is another reason. I had promised to post the news of my hair going grey, here on my blog page. Hereby, that promise is fulfilled.  😉

Thank you in advance for all the wishes you all are sure to send my way! 😉

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