A Hairy Tale

 

As I ruffle my recently cut and showered hair I feel a sense of euphoria.

I love going for a boy cut because it feels so much fun to shuffle them out and watch them fall down in a new design. Boys don’t even need headache inducing hair bands. 

My friends have always been a bit skeptical about me keeping my hair short. 

I know people love watching the heroines’ long, smooth and silky strands blow out behind her in a movie. But that actress has got tons of people to keep her hair in place. 

My hair being heavily dense and the opposite of smooth and silky make them impossible to grow long. 

As soon as my hair reach a little below my ear. The strands start whispering to me. Their voices fill up my head. There is turmoil in my brain and an incessant commotion. 

So, after every three months, I step inside the hair salon to get rid of these “demons” on my head. Opening the door, I am hit with a smell of mixture of perfumes, dyes, shampoos, conditioners and all the beauty products man created to be the perfect self. 

I personally find it quite overwhelming. The only hair products I use are shampoo, comb and a lot of hair oil to keep my hair in control and well, that’s about it. 

I sit down in the waiting area. It is a comfy couch and all around are pictures of the bridal makeup and hairdressing the salon has proudly done in the past. I find it quite hilarious to look at all the pancake faces. 

I mean no offense to those brides. They must be and are really pretty girls. And also my apologies to you too if you like makeup. 

It's just a concept I can’t relate to. 

I think of makeup and glamor as physics. If you enjoy doing it you end up learning all of it else you gain nothing out of it. 

Finally, the barber arrives and asks me whether I have shampooed my hair. He says his scissor is not able to snip until the hair is shampooed. 

Once I forgot to shampoo before arriving at the salon so they gave me one there. I don’t know what brand they used but my poor messy and unruly hair turned so silky and smooth that it took at least half a bottle of oil to return them to their original state.

So after I pass the shampoo test he fixes me up in the chair and adjusts the cloth to prevent ruining my favorite hoodie. He asks me what kind of cut I require and I shrug and say the usual one. 

He nods and then calls the two interns over to my seat. A boy and a girl both look a few years older than me. The hairdresser says, “Now, here we have an interesting case of haircut.” 

I look as both their faces fall on thinking how to cut short hair which is just reaching the bottom ear lobe and I just roll my eyes thinking how immature.

See, this is the reason I trust my hair with only the owner of the salon. The newcomers get too nervous with my hair. 

Afterall, the hair is a crown that one never takes off. And I like a small and cute crown fit for a princess like me. (Okay, I praised a bit too much here. Ignore the self obsession here). 

Finally, he starts snipping my hair and they fall on my lap before sliding down on the floor and I watch their journey thinking about how much hair they must have collected at the end of the day, by a month and year. 

And then I think of myself as sheep whose fleece is being sheared off. ‘Baa Baa Black Sheep’ started to play in my mind and I started imagining a bag full of black hair going to wig makers. 

So, if they sell my hair they get money out of it and in a way I am paying them to sell my hair. 

Um… never mind. 

As long as I have short hair, I am quite content. 

The barber works on my hair with an intelligent spark in his eyes. He moves on them as a five star chef does while garnishing his dish. Aligning all of them to precise accuracy. 

As the dense forest starts to thin I start to feel ten times lighter. 

I think a haircut is therapy to cut off old ties and start afresh. 

There is not much to do when you sit on the 'hot seat' except hold your head in a position until required. 

So, as the intense cutting begins my field of view decreases substantially so I use my hearing to listen to tales around me. 

May it be the assistants talking about lunchtime or the lady next to me getting her hair dyed asking about the best facial treatments or a kid walking up to her mother and asking how much more she has to wait. There are just so many discussions going on.

In olden times, salons were not a thing. The barber used to set up under the banyan tree and people used to come for a shave or haircut. The barber was an intelligent man as he knew all the gossip. 

He took not only a bunch of people's hair but also their inside information. He was a good matchmaker in those days and had a reputation as an important member of society. 

Hearing all these talks it finally comes time to use the trimming machine. Then the hairs are brushed off my neck. Tiny bits of them are still holding onto me not letting go. Finally, they realize it's better to let go as I show no intention of wanting them back. 

Then it’s time for the hair dryer. Oh! I forgot to mention; even though I came, shampooed hair has to be made wet to be cut so, hence, they use the hair dryer in the end. 

The barber let the girl intern set up my hair with a dryer. She strays in awe as my hair begins to set so quickly. Another benefit of short hair is that they dry as fast as water on hot concrete. 

Finally I am set free and am no longer bonded to the chair. I stand and stretch. 

Take my headband out of the pocket and laugh thinking it will be of no use for a few weeks from now at least. 

I go and start paying the hairdresser the usual amount but he says, "A hundred rupees more.” I stare back confused and try to remind him that I have always paid 100 less because of my short hair but then he explains that he had started doing haircuts for women on the basis of age. 

Since, I am an adult, I pay full price. Well handing over the rest of the money I think that one can’t probably blame him as I am not the only girl going for short hair these days. 

I might have always kept my hair short but I have seen many women around me get “new short hair looks”. 

Okay, I admit I might have manipulated a few of my friends to go for it but they too felt this was a good change. 

Though my dear reader, I won't manipulate you. You can have any hairstyle you prefer. I guess even boys now-a-days are going for long hair. So it’s a personal choice and not  a gender stereotype. 

If you rock your look then you are cool. 

I often hear people complaining about their hair. Those who have curls go for straightening and straight hair go for curls. 

I know it's human nature to question the basket of goodies one receives.

 But when you find a style that suits you then hold onto it with pride. 

Like every fairy tale ends with a happily ever after, every hairy tale ends with you combing and enjoying your hair.

Because if we ourselves don’t love our things then who will?

Like just recently my mother cut off her long hair. She reached quite a Rapunzel level with her hair but growing responsibilities made her snip them off slowly. 

But this year she finally took the daring step and cut off her waist length hair to shoulder length. The reason being that she had to now start wearing specs regularly.

So, she needed a new haircut to compliment her new look. 

I must say it turned out awesome because her wide smile and sparkle in the eyes made it possible for her to carry her look gracefully.

In the end, I will just say that for a dress to look good on you you don’t need a specific figure or makeup and styled hair. All you need is confidence and self love to slay your look.

So, go end your hairy tales with a happily combing ever after.