Lambe bal

Arre yaar... I am just growing my hair a bit longer than usual. Why would everyone think that I am terminally star-struck and am trying to emulate Anniyan or Krrish? All the three characters exhibited by the Anniyan with Multiple Personality Disorder freaked me out. They are so abnormal and I would never wish to be like any one of them even in my nightmares. If I were allowed to switch anything with Krrish, I would rather go for his biceps than hair.

I just want to see how I look with long hair before I get bald. Well, Agassi did it. When I get bald, I would like to show my people my photographs of ‘now’ and ‘then’ (Epdi irunda naan… Ipdi aayitein – How I was… How I am) or ‘before’ and ‘after’ (like they show on Tele Shopping Network). My receding hairline and hair fall are alarming these days. The fact that my dad is bald doesn’t console me either. They say that baldness is hereditary. Damn. Of all the things, why would one pass on baldness through genes? A good reason for anyone to hate heredity.

Now that I am away from home, this could be my only chance to grow long hair. My mom would definitely freak out when she receives me at Madras Airport early next year. I hope she doesn’t faint, or worse, create a nasty scene at airport. I am sure my dad would be proud of me. He would merrily boast to his friends “You see that lousy guy with shaggy hair? That is my son. I was like him when I was his age”. But he would not show off his glee in front of my mom. He may even pretend that he doesn’t approve my hairstyle. Well, nobody messes up with my mom. Why on earth would we infuriate her with something and get ourselves reminded of it on all sorts of random occasions for months to come? We know each other too well and we see trouble when it is miles away.

I sort of love this game I play with my mom. Get on to her nerves till it is about to explode and retreat at the last moment. Who said I am scared of adventures? When I go back home, she would manage to keep her cool with the only intention of not to shout at her son, who had been away from home for around a year. I would visit my barber before she gets a good chance to take a dig at my long hair. Ha.. ha.. I am now a pro in safely ducking away from my mom’s lethal digs. Well, I am a peace loving person at heart and I am not fond of being terrorized.

A lot of things about me freaks my mom out.

“Indu, turn off the TV and get some sleep”
“Just 10 more minutes, Amma. This is the greatest movie/documentary ever made”
Those 10 minutes would extend to at least an hour.

“Wake up, Indu. It is 8 AM”
“I am feeling sleepy and it is weekend for God’s sake”
“No wonder you feel sleepy. I asked you to turn the TV off and go to sleep last night. When was the last time you listened to me?”
Just to escape from the long boring lecture about to follow, I would scamper away to brush my teeth.

“You have again bought dark colored dresses. They don’t suit our dark skin tone, Indu”
“Come on, Amma. Pale colors stand out distinct from our skin tone. Darker colors merge with us”
“I have never ever heard a more stupid argument”

“How come you watch a whole test match? That too when India is not playing?”
“How can you say that, Amma? It is CRICKET”

“Why do you wear ‘Om’ around your neck? I have no doubt that you are a goddamned atheist. Do not dare to make fun of my Gods”
“Amma. Calm down. I like the symbol. It is cool”
I then try to keep the chain safely in my travel bag whenever I go to Pondicherry.

I miss her tea. I miss her egg-curry. I miss her smile. I miss her shouting at me. I miss her a lot.
My long hairs are not long enough yet. I think they would take a couple more months to touch my shoulder. It is perfect when they are wet with water or hair gel. When they dry off, hairs curl up and look like a bird’s nest on my head. Hell. At those times, I have this strong temptation to run straight to a hairdresser and have a crew cut. But then I convince myself saying that this could be my one and only chance to grow long hairs. May the force be with me to stay strong in my ambition. Amen.