Unlike the scanty grey hair strands that unsuccessfully cover my head today, I had a really lush growth in my adolescence that regularly turned to nice curls even after submitting meekly to a barber’s snipping once in a month as mandated by the school principal who had a fetish for trimmed hair and who was not averse to calling a barber to school premises, much to our embarrassment, if the boys did not comply with her instruction. However, I had not appreciated my asset till a comely girl once commented that I did not need to comb my hair after she saw me setting them in place by simply passing my fingers through them a couple of times after a heavy downpour that had drenched us.

It was therefore a matter of grave concern when I found that I was losing hair rapidly during my engineering days. I am not sure whether it was due to hormonal change or it was the result of pulling my hair in frustration due to the tough academic schedule and equally tortuous syllabus followed by IIT, Delhi, plus the fact that I was competing, rather poorly, with the best minds of my peer group. The sight of a bunch of hair caught in the comb every morning was emotionally upsetting and I was keen to put a stop to it as early as possible.

Under those circumstances a traditionalist would normally prescribe ample use of oil as a cure. The problem was choosing the right type among many available in the market- coconut oil, mustard oil, Brylcreem, Brahmi Amla oil or some other herbal type. All options were messy, smelly or too costly. An Ayurveda practitioner from Kerala used to claim that he could grow a foot- long hair within a month if someone volunteered to use his concocted oil. He displayed females with flowing hair, ostensibly the beneficiaries of his secret formula, in his advertisement.

However, I was prejudiced against the use of any oil because I had been brain washed by a TV interview of a skin specialist who cogently argued that there are enough sebaceous glands on our scalps that produce oil naturally and lack of oil has nothing to do with hair fall. Putting oil in the hair, according to him, was a complete waste. He wrapped up his argument dramatically by proposing that it was better to throw down the drain all the hair oil that one had purchased; it would at least save some money on the expenditure incurred on soap and shampoo! It made sense; more hair oil implied more shampoo to wash it off.

While I was struggling to find a solution of my problem, a distant older cousin suggested that hair fall could be arrested by shaving one’s head completely bald. He opined that shaving the scalp would promote fresh copious growth of hair. It was indeed a bizarre solution but I was inclined to accept it because of my confidence in that cousin who appeared to be practical in worldly ways.

It was a wintry January morning when I went with a grim determination to a salon in the adjoining R K Puram colony to execute my plan. That decision, to me, was quite momentous and painful. I could imagine myself like someone willing to undergo circumcision.

As I sat in the swivel chair I told the barber hesitantly to shave my head. The poor fellow did not hear me properly and he lavishly put the shaving cream on my face thinking that I needed my stubble to be shaved. When I asked him why he was shaving my face though I had asked my head to be shaved, he was flustered and he complained, “Then you should have told that you want a Gandhi top.” I realized that both of us belonged to different worlds and were not acquainted with each other’s lexicon though we both spoke Hinglish comfortably.

After I got tonsured I walked back to my hostel sheepishly - like a sheep that was freshly shorn! When I stood under a shower to take a bath, I could feel, for the first time in my life, my scalp shivering violently under the impact of cold water (hot water from centralized heating system was supplied in the hostel only in the evening and I did not own or borrow a water heater).

My new glowing Buddha look was a big surprise for all the hostel inmates. Few students thought that I had lost a dear one in the family but when I explained the reason, they would pass by smilingly. Many of them would come close and fondle my head with glee - so much so that one friend suggested a brilliant idea that I could make some money if I charged one rupee per head (pun intended) for allowing such a pleasure. (One rupee was not insignificant in 1982. Minimum fare for DTC bus was only 40 paise and monthly hostel mess bill was Rupees 150!)

Like a child who puts a coin in his piggy bank and then wonders frequently as to how much money he has been able to accumulate, I used to look at my head in the mirror many times a day wishing for the previous crowning glory but I could see only a barely perceptible change. The progress of new shoots on my scalp matched the Hindu rate of growth of the Indian economy prevailing at that time.

Not long after my tonsure we had placement interviews and various companies came to the campus to offer jobs. I recall attending those job interviews in that get-up only. One look at my poorly populated head prompted one interviewer to ask me whether I was from Bihar because Bihari students usually sported close cropped hair. I am not sure whether because of my look only I got picked up by Tata owned Indian Tube Company that was based in Jamshedpur. (Indian Tube Company got merged with TISCO soon after)

Years have rolled by and I now realize that I was unnecessarily and foolishly obsessed with my hair in those days. Nothing stays forever; not even for long. Sometimes we fight against hair fall, sometimes against wrinkles, sometimes against arthritic joints and sometimes against the pain of loss of some dear one who departed before us. One cannot hold on to anything. Everything is just in a flow and it need not be a matter of regret if you lose something. I learnt my lesson: life is like a giant wheel- people and events come in your life and then get whisked away. So, relax and enjoy while the hair shines!

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