The Freedom and the Hair

“Look at the baby, she has a lot of hair,” acclaimed one of the nurses. The mother relaxing after her excruciating birth pang was elated to hear the compliment of the nurse, who aided her to deliver her little bundle of joy to this earth. The mother, though disoriented due to the pain gifted by her baby girl, shook her head in affirmation to the nurse’s appreciation of her baby’s beautiful hair. The newborn didn’t really seem to like the light and the noise, which were new to her away from the cozy abode of her mother’s womb. She refused to be consoled; rather kept her little throat busy screaming like a cricket. However, the visitors didn’t fail to appreciate and wonder at her hair, for it was exceptional. The mother felt proud of her little daughter and credited it to the family genes.

The years went by and the she grew up, along with her the hair too grew thick and silky. Her grandmother took special care of the thick and silky hair massaging it with exotic medicated oil, and it grew long with an extraordinary pace. The people around were attracted by her- rather I should say by her hair- and saw it with curious gazes and sometimes even with an envious stare. She was the center of attraction in her school days; the boys admired at her hair, some even dared to pen poems about it. She invariably chose to flaunt her blonde hair ostentatiously. She floated on the fame and attention her hair attracted. Gradually, when the Metropolitan City looked at it with an eye of ‘not modern,’ she decided to embrace the city’s vibes. For the first time she dared to go under the scissors; half of her hair fell on the floor abandoned. The friends around appreciated her courage to grab the ‘freedom’ to let loose the ‘extra burden.’ All the fierce criticisms and negative remarks about her decision to go under the scissors were shunned away with a lethal weapon of ‘freedom’, advised to her by the peers. Her father consoled her mother, “after all it’s her hair, and she is a grown-up girl studying in Bangalore.” And this put an end to the hue and cry of her nagging mother over her daughter’s’ extreme step to freedom.

The peers and the society forced her to find a new identity from the ‘moderns’ (as her parents would call it) ambiance in which she lived. One exclusive companion; a lover was a need, and she found him with ease. He said he loved her and the specially the hair. He used to caress her hair, running his fingers through her thick hair, which was the leftover of the reminiscence of her adventure to the world of freedom. He chose to refrain from any comments, for he too believed this as the mark of freedom and modernity. However, when he found one of her hair strands hiding beneath the piled rice in his plate, he almost threw up is disgust. She said with contempt, “after all it is my hair.”      

It all started with a mild head ache, but when the pain persisted, she decided to pay a visit to her family doctor. The days followed were the most undesired and unfortunate ones in her life. The first chemo proved fatal, snatching away her ‘blonde hair’ making her almost bald. Her lover left her complaining her incapability to make him happy anymore. Repeated sessions of chemo brought in nightmares, the only comfort was the solitude she demanded from her parents and the shawl that covered her bald head. As the days went by, her health steadily deteriorated  making her completely despondent. She no more feared her poor health or sickness but the sympathetic visitors who annoyed her the most. The only solace she desired was a priest who often visited her in her sickbed with words of consolation. His company and talks made her forget the pain. One fine day, the priest came in with a wig. “This suits you well,” having said this he extended the wig to her, but she refused to open her eyes. The room was immersed in silence and tranquility. She wore a charming smile in her lips for she had already embraced ‘the timeless sleep’, to the land of immortality.

With a heavy heart the priest mumbled, “After all, it is only hair, she is beautiful even without it.”

As he walked out, the medical staff and her parents rushed to the ward only to see her inert body adorned with a heavenly smile. At last she won her freedom!