Hair now, gone tomorrow!

 

Today, my husband was pleasantly surprised when he called out from the bathroom for a shampoo bottle. Normally, this would prompt a tirade about his laziness, followed by my hurried hand off of our regular brand of shampoo. But today, I handed him expensive bottles of shampoo and conditioner with a smile, saying, “With love.” Though puzzled, he was happy to indulge in the fancy products. I quietly slipped away before he realised they were the result of one of my hair care experiments gone wrong.

Since moving into our new home, my obsession with hair care has reached new heights. Hair loss is such a rampant problem in my community that it’s probably the only topic people don’t argue about in our WhatsApp group. In a desperate attempt to save what’s left of my hair, I’ve tried everything: onion shampoo, rice water conditioner, WoW serum, Adivasi hair oil—you name it, I’ve tried it!

Adding insult to injury, my mother delights in reminding me, “You used to have such thick hair I couldn’t hold it with one hand. Now, I can wrap my little finger around it.” And, unfortunately, she’s right.

It turns out the real culprit is the water! The high levels of TDS and salt content have not only been wreaking havoc on our hair but also affecting our health. Now, some of the senior members of our community are putting their heads together to find a solution.

Until then, I am likely to continue with my hair experiments, though the more I care about it, the worse it seems to get. Like many things in life, the more we fixate on something, the more elusive it becomes.

Why are we so obsessed with losing hair? How can something so insubstantial hold so much power over our psyche? In Hindu culture, hair symbolises more than just identity or beauty; it’s also seen as a link to the divine. Sadhus often sport long Jata mudis, while temple priests wear small tufts. I once read that hair represents the flow of energy and wisdom.

Baldness, too, carries spiritual meaning. Tonsuring is considered the ultimate act of surrender, symbolising the removal of ego. This is why in both Buddhist and Jain traditions, the initiation into monkhood begins with the shaving of the head, signifying their renunciation of worldly pleasures.

I suppose my own "mane" issue is a journey of discovery, acceptance, and growth: the discovery of new products, the acceptance of their inefficacy, and the growth of half-used bottles cluttering my shelves.

My daydreaming was interrupted when my husband pointed out a strand of hair in the dosa I’d just served. “Un thalaya vida, tharaiyile mudi adhigama irukku,” he quipped (which means, “There’s more hair on the floor than on your head.”).

Well, maybe it’s time for my own renunciation! I’d better book an appointment for a haircut.

"You can't control everything. Your hair was put on your head to remind you of that."  - Anonymous.