A few days ago, I discovered a white hair strand among the bunch of hair fallen in the basin while combing. This was my first full-length white hair. I was always clear in my head I will be happy to see my first shade of white now that I am late to the club courtesy my (black hair) genes passed on to me by my Nani through my mother.
For a long time, I have had a list of to-dos with respect to the white in my hair –
- I will use my white hair to express my wisdom on others with the dialogue “Ye baal main ne dhoop main safed nahin kiye hain!“
- I will never dye or colour my hair black, brown or red and will move around proudly with the white in my hair. I will give my reason as authenticity which will be true partly because the other true part will be my laziness.
- I will write prose and poetry debating whether it should be called hair greying or hair whitening.
- I visualize myself walking alongside my mother-in-law – She with jet black (dyed) hair at the age of 74 and I with jet white hair at the age of 40. I am considering and reconsidering if this will be taken as another form of my rebellion. After all who likes to show white hair will be her question?
- The next step after getting comfortable with the upkeep of a white head will be preparing to accept the upkeep of a bald head. Just in case.
Doesn’t it look like a good enough planned preparation? I am sure it does.
That day, at the first sight of the white strand, my modus operandi was to turn on the tap, drain down that hair strand and lose myself to the thoughts of expanding on the post idea.
Acceptance has to take some more time building a road for itself.
Linking this post with Corinne Rodrigues’s Monday Musings post