Hair Raisers…

I know I haven’t written for a long, long time and I might be a bit rusty with my use of phrases and punctuations. Submissions have taken their toll on me, and my regular habit of procrastination has put me in knee-deep trouble. Knees would be too low, neck-deep trouble would be appropriate. Tempers have frayed, people always look frazzled and even the brightest minds have been dulled by MU submissions. Submissions cause you to scream out loud and say “I submit!” However, the longest standing traditions of Mumbai University is not what is going to be today’s point of discussion. Although it would make an interesting topic, people have criticized me for criticizing many things, which is very hypocritical. My dad refuses to believe I can write just because my ideas are too cynical. So for once, I will not analyze anything or anyone but myself.

The point of analysis is my hair. The only thing I hear about myself whenever I meet someone is how different I look with my current hairstyle. Which isn’t saying much because it isn’t a hairstyle at all. It’s more like an all-action growth by my hair in the 3 months’ time I have given it to grow in any direction it wants. However, it has chosen to remain Indian and grow upwards than downwards. Which is the reason why I can never sport John-Travolta-in-Pulp-Fiction style of hair. It just doesn’t grow the way I want it to. It curls at the ends!

It’s like a marvellous black bush, earning me comparisons with a certain Maraoune Fellaini of Everton fame. Marvellous would actually be a misnomer, tangled and vine-like would be spot-on. Now, many people have dared to ask me if I ever comb my hair. To this, I would like to scream and run about like a headless chicken. But in a saner and controlled voice, I would say I have tried. I have tried combing it with even wire brushes, but to no avail. As a common joke doing the rounds of my class goes, “If anyone wants a comb, try finding them in Shridhar’s hair. You’re sure to find one.” Which is quite true. Hence the need for me to wash my hair everyday. Not that I didn’t earlier, but nowadays, I need to get 5 minutes out of my regular routine to actually transform me from a chump with flattened hair to some kind of reasonable nerd.

Now, you might ask me, if Ididnt want to go to all this trouble, why did I need to grow my hair?

Fair enough, though my reasons for it aren’t. The story is a typical show of how stubborn I can be. I have had horrible hair like this for a pretty long time. To avoid maintaining it, I used to be eager to cut it off and get rid of it asap. People ribbed me a lot about me cutting it too soon. So as a sadistic punishment, I had decided to grow my hair. And the result is as you see nowadays. For the benefit of the people who have not seen me in this avatar, here is a photo. Enjoy!

Forget the expression, look at the jewellery!

Girls In Their Summer Clothes

India has always been popular for its hippie-culture throughout the 80’s and for the highly popular cinema that it spawned. For many years, India has been the “hair”-apparent for the crown of “Countries Which Worry Most About Their Hair”. Now, I’m not talking about the money spent on cosmetics, but the time.  From the uber-cool look of bald during the Independence struggle, to the stringed and braided hair of the hippie era, to the Tere Naam hairstyle of modern times, our country has been experimenting with the black blanket on its head, pointedly called “hair” and never before has there been an equivalent rise in ass-pain due to the combs in the back-pocket. Moving on to moustaches…

Mustachios of India

Have you ever realized how moustache-minded India is? You can almost sing, “Here a moustache, there a moustache, everywhere a moustache,” and so on till you complete the rhyme. India’s reached the 21st Century, yet it still lives in the middle ages with respect to the fuzz on their faces. India has inspired the West to get a sporty mustache, as our Italiano neighbours call it, or atleast something to cover their upper lips. Now don’t get me wrong, this is not a critical post, but on the contrary. Never could have guessed it, right? 😉

There have been massive changes in Indian culture in the past few decades. People have become more like foreign-waale log. Wearing modern clothes, going to chic parties, piercing previously-undiscovered parts of your body, etc, it’s the in-thing mayhn. Dig it, yo. Risque has never been so fashionable before, nor so cliched.

Well, of all people, I wouldn’t include myself in the vigilante fashion policia, and no-one else in their right clanker would. But there is a difference between fashion and industrial mass-production. Fashion would be, erm, something new or unique. A look that you have created for yourself or for someone. The current fad in Mumbai is baggy “tees”, even baggier  low-waist jeans, which are smaller in size than an eight-year-old’s pajamas, the Converse shoes, spiked hair and an arrogant look to match. Let me warn you, having experienced this a lot, never ever stand behind such people when they are about to bend. And please cover the eyes of any children exposed to this hazard. And fat girls, do avoid the ill-fitting jeans, won’t you? Oh my God, is that a Washboard forced underneath your clothes to stop that bulge in the middle?

Enter any men’s washroom in your local mall. I reassure you that my motives are not very doubtful. Look around you and please do not peek into cubicles. What are you most likely to see, besides the cubicles, that is? Simple. Men combing their hair. Even the partial baldies like to spread their minimal hair from left to right (or right to left, whichever hand you’ve washed and are using on the comb). The less fussy of them just glance at the mirror, adjusting a stray lock here and there. Most of them, i.e, the ones aspiring to emulate movie-stars, will comb their hair back and forth until the next aspiring movie-star jostles him, or his hair starts coming out in clumps. As I told you before, the ass-pocket combs aren’t really healthy for sciatica and the like.

Note the latest and most popular hairstyle.

Inspiration for today:- Old-school thoughts from my parents about trying out beard styles.

Rebellion for today:- Slightly modifying my beard, though not noticeably.

You know, no-one’s tried beard styles much. People almost always shave it off, or let it grow until bin Laden approves of it. Those who do try it always pick the wrong one. Oh, and just so you’ve finished reading the article, I’ve probably cycled effectively between topics, so that the fat girls don’t feel too offended, nor the Converse lovers, and definitely not the Sallu-bhai-lovers. Chetan Bhagat, horrible books, horrible choice of hero. There you go, topic for your next book about three friends who have different hairstyles and fashion sensibilities. You have to have 3 guys, don’t you? Oh, and if I’ve seemed abrupt in this, spare me. I write without research as I’m usually bored.

Hindustan‘s in fashion mayhem, and let’s face it, we’re doing nothing to help it. with our Converse-obsession and underwear-addiction.