My beautiful Hair Story

Was her hair really as strong as rope to hold the heavy weight? What did she eat? How did she take care of her hair? How did she manage to wash her hair?

Such questions always come to my mind whenever I think of Rapunzel, especially when I see my tresses, which are a great embarrassment to me.

Rapunzel is the story that every girl is obsessed with. The romance is not in the Prince  who is attracted by the sweet melody of her voice, but in those long tresses that float down the castle, to reach down to allow a person to climb up.

My hair has been scanty since the very beginning. You could easily do Maths by counting my strands. Every clip or rubber band glides through my hair within few minutes leaving my straight and silky hair unattended, separated. I have tried every imaginable remedy, oiled them, nourished them, changed shampoos, visited doctors and hair saloons even considered Doctor Batra, (giving him permission to spam my inbox with thousand SMSs) but still, in volume they won't grow.

One day my friend suggested that she had a solution for me. She came home loaded with perm-kit, shampoo and gloves.

I had no idea what this perm is?.

She had learnt the technique of perm and I was her first experiment. For two hours I sat, while she rolled my hair around different colored rollers, winding them over tissue paper, securing it in place with large pins, adding chemicals and heat to give me a new make-over.

I was shocked when I looked into the mirror, frightened, I began to cry.

“Oh dear! Look! What have you done to my hair” I sobbed

The curly strands stood up on my head in all directions, it looked like I had been electrocuted to 800 million voltages

“I haven’t finished it as yet, calm down” she said

For next fifteen minutes, she carefully blow dried my hair, setting the curls in position, dropping them neatly on my shoulder, with few noodle-shaped curls flung on my forehead

I liked the look, it did add the volume to my hair and for next few years I continued to perm them regularly.

“The chemical used for perm are damaging your hair” said my friend one day

I looked closely, they were dry and looked like straws. I decided to oil my hair. I bought different types of oils, Olive oil, Almond oil, Amla oil, Coconut oil, I hated the smell but care I must, therefore oiled them regularly.

But if the roots are damaged what can one do?
On my recent visit to Bangkok, my cousin suggested hair extension.

“Hair extension is good for you” she said, “It will not only add to the volume of your hair but also give you the length if you wish.”

I was apprehensive at first but she convinced me that it was reliable.

We went to a mall near her house. The hair stylish had a little kiosk tucked in between two large stores. He checked the color and the quality of my hair, then removed the strands of hair from two different colored wigs that matched my hair. He used the bonding and sealing extension technique wherein he took few strands of my hair and glued it to the section of weft hair.


I think I heard my hair say “I do till the death do us apart” 

Proudly I walked with the long thick hair, bumpity, bum, bump, bouncing on my butt. It changed me completely giving me a new confidence. I was no more worried about my scalp looking pathetic, or about damaging the roots because the weft was fixed with silicon glue few centimeters away from the scalp. The compliments I got from the people who were not aware of my hair extension, gave me a kind of thrill. . It looked too good to be true and I felt that was the end of my hair problems

Until…..

The latex acrylic glue became weak and I saw the strands of weft falling on my pillow.

After two months of enjoying the glory on my head, I saw my own hair weep as they parted with their handsome weft……..

Back to scanty hair and know not what to do…….Wish I could meet Rapunzel of modern world, wishful thinking perhaps, with big variety of shampoos and lotions, and women's adventurous spirit of giving every shampoo a chance, long healthy hair remains a dream, locked up into our own castle of fantasy...

At this point I am reminded of a joke which I often tell my friends to divert their attention away from my scanty hair :

There was a girl who just had 3 strands of hair. She wanted to pamper herself so she decided to go to a hair saloon. The hair dresser gave her a good head massage and nice hair-wash and then asked her what hair style she would prefer with three strands of hair.

“Make me a nice braid” she said,

So hairdresser carefully took her three strands and decided to make her a nice braid but one strand broke,

“Oh! I am so sorry, one strand broke I can’t braid, there are only two strands left, what do I do?” said the hair dresser.

“Ok make a bun” said the girl

 While twisting her hair to make a bun, one more strand broke,

“Ooooops! so sorry, you have only one strand left, what do I do?” said the hair dresser,

“Okay, never mind” said the girl, “just blow dry my hair and leave it open.”

I am inspired to write thiscontent in response to Dove hair-aware app.

Hair Flair

 “Love your hair and it loves you back!” 

Finally the day arrived.

My ‘Facebook’ friend of four years made a trip to my home town and was eager to meet me. Our feelings were mutual, we had exchanged virtual notes, loves and hugs many times. Although I knew her quite well, I knew that I would not be able to recognize her if I saw her on the road. All her photographs on FB showed only her face, she was always dressed in black from head to toe, exposing only smooth skin, heavy eye-make-up and a beautiful smile. When we met at the coffee shop of Hotel Marriott, we couldn’t stop talking, we had so much to share.

“Let’s go out for lunch and then we go shopping” I said

We went upstairs to her room to freshen up. I was stunned when she removed her Hijab and un-rolled her thick round bun, her jet black hair shone as it uncurled, and reached her hips covering her back like a thick satin curtain.

“Wow!” I whistled softly, and walked closer to her to strum my fingers through her thick mane, they were silky and slid smoothly through my fingers “Such beautiful hair you have, why do you cover it so? Let me click a picture of you, come stand here?”

“No, please don’t. I cannot remove my picture without my Hijab. My husband will be angry if he learns about this. My beauty is reserved for my hubby only. I cannot flaunt it in public.” She said.

Such beautiful hair and only one person could enjoy it? Utter waste of beauty! Didn't her happiness matter? Rolling up her beautiful hair like that and keeping it hidden behind the Hijab? Didn’t she feel like playing with her hair under the bright sunlight? Didn’t she wish to feel soft breeze blowing her hair or sometimes let it wet in the heavy rain?

I would have loved to keep the picture of her thick voluptuous hair that would inspire me to take care for my own hair but she wouldn’t allow me to click the picture. I wanted to know all the details of how she takes care of her hair, I begged her to share her secret...but she said there was no secret at all...just take care....no fuss…..

But I too have taken so much care….and that too with so much fuss..pampering it all the time.....

I too have loved my own silky hair
Straight and brown but with scanty flair
Tortured it yes, guilty, had curled it many times
Hair-extensions I added to make it look divine.
No! Never did they grow long or beautiful like this

Never had thick plait that went bumpty bump on my back

They never grew long like that of princess Rapunzel
Nor lost the long veil through love and tears
chop, chop, chopped until it looked like this

Maybe I should wear a Hijab or a long scarf too
To hide my shiny scalp that can hold no more clips
Tried different shampoos, oh yes! oils and beauty tips
But genes and DNA just helplessly glare
No remedies have helped
In family history runs scanty hair
I am afraid of the future
My granny scalp was also so bare
I hope that in my old age they don’t look like this

I desperately look for hair-specialist,
That will teach me to care
With healthy hair I will try out
Many hair styles that could be rare
With flowers, beads and lace
I could walk with grace
Making a fashion statement that will look
like this

Just twenty-five feathers left, and now I am scared
With finger-tips I regularly comb my hair
Careful forever, never to break them into bits
Oil them, steam them, and tenderly massage those flicks
Hoping they will blossom one day
Into lovely-dovey tresses
I will be walking on the moon
If they start to look like this

Participated in  “Love your hair and it loves you back!” blogger contest.

Uncrowned Glory

If I count the hair on my scalp, it will be exactly 25 feathers. This has been a topic of discussion with most of my friends and relatives. When they should be asking me about my well being, all they notice is my naked scalp. I wish I could hide it. I envy Muslim ladies who are able to cover their scalp with burqas…yeah it helps to save from embarrassment, also those 1950’s women, who wore beautiful hats to cover their scalps, ,but for me, there is no relief…I cannot wear burqa nor wear any hats (this might attract more traffic of stares on me) I have tried perms, adding curls to disguise my tresses but they have lost their luster over time and are even more straw’ey than ever before.


My recent visit to a hair salon brings me some hope. I like the oil massage and so very glad that such services are available now. (when my niece was a kid, she would regularly massage my hair, oiling it liberally and playing with my hair. I would enjoy her tiny finger in my hair) but, now that she is grown up, she would rather concentrate on her own hair. I have been regularly trying different salon to seek the best masseur. I think I have found it at last.

I went to this hair salon, on recommendation of my friend, who is concerned about my vanishing tresses. She fixed the appointment for me; therefore I am no stranger to them. The best of the clan volunteers to massage my scalp. Gently squeezing the cotton soaked in oil over my scalp, she covers my head with dripping oil. Massage is actually pressing of points, gently with her fingers, followed by gentle hammering with closed palms. I drifted off to sleep enjoying the pampering, awaken only when she moves away.

“Maam, I see you have very scanty hair” says the superintendent of the salon. (as if I don’t know)

“So, what do you suggest?” I say, hoping against hope that there is some remedy.

“We have solution if you are ready to take up the treatment” she says

“Really? And what that be?”

“First, you must come regularly, at least twice a week” (she is looking for steady clients, I am sure)

“I have come for hair massage, just need to oil my hair, get a good massage and leave it overnight. I shall wash it next day.”

“Oh no, no, you should never leave your hair oily and walk on the street. There is too much dust on the road that will harm your roots. Have you seen foreigners with oily hair?”

(As if foreigners oil their hair. I am not sure. Plan to enquire this quest on my next trip abroad.)

“We will give you hair pack of ‘curd with secret ingredients” (I have heard of face-pack, now what is this hair-pack? Who is this introducing new gimmick every time?)

“Okay and then?”

“Then massage and steaming, long procedure, maam, but sure-shot treatment, believe me; you will find the difference within one month”

Since my crowning glory has limited life, I decide to play along. Aar ya paar….

I confirm the treatments, lay back and relax…..

For another hour, there is massage, hair-pack, steaming, hair-wash and blow-dry.

Three hours of my precious time is lost in a salon which promises me a matted crown, but I am feeling good......

Hope it works. I have fixed the appointment for follow-up next week…..

Visit to Beauty salon in Lagos

One of my cousins was leaving for USA,so she decided to have a make over, to get a new look after her trip to Lagos. She wanted to do streaking and blow dry....we went to the salon, where the owner was a male hair style artist. The salon was full of beautiful paintings covering all the bare walls. There were Indian magazines on the magazine racks. Salon was quite expensive. For dyeing and blow drying my cousin paid about one hundred US dollars whole my couin who did streaking and cutting hair paid almost one hundred and sixty US dollars. It is quite expensive if we compare the rates with India, In Mumbai I normally pay Rs1000 (about 25 US dollars)for dyeing my hair, and that too in a good salon.