Haircuts have now become a long-drawn affair, as it also involves colouring (the new-age term for dyeing). Though I feel lucky to still have a full crop of hair even after entering the wrong side of 50, but during every salon visit the proliferating silver linings on my scalp only aggravate the dark clouds of despair.
As the barber's scissors scythe through my hair mass, I notice that the grey cover is spreading like water hyacinths in our polluted water bodies. Its stranglehold over both the temple regions is complete and in other parts also vast swathes are facing a rapid depletion of melanin pigment cells.
I look at the mirror with the dread of a schoolkid checking the answer sheet of an exam he knows he had flunked. There is that sinking feeling while establishing an eye contact with my mirror image. However, I console myself thinking that this unvarnished grey's anatomy is a fleeting one and will soon give way to an airbrushed L'Oréal reality.
During those moments my mortal dread is that if someone known to me enters the salon and gets a full-on view of my 5,000 shades of grey. Thankfully, so far, I have been spared those blushes.
As the barber diligently applies the hair colour, one feels the irritation once it coagulates and turns black. After a wash the hair has a too-good-to-be-true coal black shade and it takes a few days to attain normalcy.
A couple of weeks later the greys begin to reappear as the colour coating weakens and the 'grey shoots' pop up. Though many go for 'touch ups' I wait for the next haircut for a fresh coat.
So, this monthly exercise goes on ... I really envy celebrities like actor George Clooney, soccer coach Arsene Wenger and closer home Naseeruddin Shah, who proudly flaunt their greys. Also, some of my friends who never took up dyeing or gave it up recently. Wonder when I would muster enough courage to do that.
Also Read: Random Jottings
