The tragedy of hair fall

Noodles waves & brooms

Charcoal coffee & gold

Silky oily & rough

Ponytail, braid & bun

This is how the girls like me nickname them

Out of love

Love that smiles

looking at Juhi Chawla in Kesh king

and Vidya Balan in Nihar Naturals.

Dreaming the same lengthy shiny tresses one day,

each night I wet my scalp with oils

until some drops glide on my forehead.

Saving egg and onion from my omelette,

I apply them to my head

Ignoring the bone-breaking cold

I shampoo my hairs for hours

with the little hope that the prop roots of my banyan tree will strengthen my beauty

But the coiled strands in my comb,

glued strands on my chair,

scattering strands on the floor,

and hanging strands on my tee

sings the saga of betrayal,

betrayal of my hairs that is hard for me to accept

Maa blames my fast food for this

Papa says your stress is the real culprit

and Bhai mocks me telling to cut my hairs short

Relatives who had seen the past richness of my flora sympathises me now

and my dear friends embrace me with the same pinch

Travelling the road from the boys’ barbershop

to high priced ladies parlour,

my hairs have raised their worth

The worth that jumps in anger

when someone defines them as mere strings of keratin

The worth that jumps in laughter

when I cry for them & pray for their development…

©ruchiabhisikta

3 thoughts on “The tragedy of hair fall

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