People On The Hills

I would walk thousand miles to watch the wonders of the universe, if only I could. When tired of too much walk, I would knock on the door of the house on the hills and greet the strangers within. Who are those people inside those houses? What keeps them happy or sad? Do their heart shrink with desires, do they expect too much from life? Or are they content with little they have, happy to live side by side with nature? There is bountiful greenery around them, fresh fruits in their garden, a kitchen garden too perhaps. Sun sets every evening casting the red rays on their walls, filtering into their homes with warmer tones. They must be happy lot, they need to be, they cannot complain…or do they??

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.

In Transit at Frankfurt

When making long distance travel, the biggest hurdle is when there is overnight stay between the flights. Staying with a family is unnecessarily inconveniencing them and even though they are family, it is not my style to trouble them for pick-up from airport just for one night. Checking into the expensive hotels is the added expenditure, which is quite a waste if you do not enjoy the privilege of touring the place and the third option of spending the long night at the airport is draining off your energy with sleepless nights. Waiting in transit is no fun at all. I have tried all three and have not been happy with any of those options.

But, only once I remember, some few years ago, during my transit at Frankfurt, from Tenerife to Mumbai, it was a pleasant stay. There are thousands of hotels in Frankfurt and some at very reasonable rates, but when I am travelling alone, I am always scared to go to an unknown place in a strange city and that is why when my travel agent suggested that I stay with a family for a night with just € 60, I grabbed this opportunity.

I paid € 60 to my travel agent in Tenerife and I was told that the man in charge would come to pick me up from the airport. I arrived at Frankfurt airport at 5pm, not knowing whom to expect. One gentleman in late 60’s approached me and introduced himself as Mr. Advani. Most of my luggage was offloaded directly to Mumbai from Tenerife, so I had only a small hand-carry which he helped me carry to his car.

He drove me through the city, pointing out to important monuments on the street on route to his house. After an hour’s drive we reached his house where his wife gave me a warm welcome. They had a small apartment 3BHK and there were three more men in the room who were there to spend a night. Mrs. Advani offered me a cup of tea and asked me if I wanted to go for a drive with her to the supermarket. I went along, not wanting to sit with strangers in the room. On the way to the supermarket, I learnt that they had grown up children who had moved out and they were bored till they found this hospitality business of accommodating the transit passengers. Everyday, they had visitors from different parts of the world whom her hubby had to pick and drop them back to the airport and the woman cooked the meals for their guests. She also had a garment store in town which was not doing so well.

By the time, we returned from the supermarket, we were friends. I went to the kitchen with her and together we cooked meals. (not that she asked my help, but I cannot sit idle if somebody is busy) Unfortunately, she had no helper at home, so besides helping her with cooking, I also helped her wash dishes and set the table. She was quick and efficient and within one hour, the dinning table was set with proper meals of Dhal, Rice, one vegetable, salad and snacks. The men were deep in conversation, sharing jokes and anecdotes, and when we entered the room, they included us into their conversation. They had Indian channels on TV but nobody was watching that.

The time passed quickly for us and also for that old couple who would have been lonely otherwise, but they were happy to hear our rant and it made them feel alive having found an audience to share their stories. They didn’t miss their family or their children who had moved out to the sunnier sides, they were happy that they were doing something worthwhile for themselves; they were offering a safe haven to the lone travelers. It was only for one night for us, but for them tomorrow would be another day with different set of transit passengers.

Since I was the only women in the group, she offered me a private room, which I could lock from inside while the other men shared the next room. Early next morning, after a hot cup of tea, Mr. Advani dropped me back to the airport just one hour before my departure time.

It was the most memorable and safe one-night stay in transit at Frankfurt.