BALD AND HAPPY

I was blessed with a thick head of hair, so thick it was that many times the, preceding the use of his other instruments of torture; the scissors, the clipper and the frightening cut throat of a razor, during the barber’s initial combing itself the comb would break in two,
Possibly the thick mop, so prominent in the photo that had preceded me to my future in- law’s had caught the eyes of my bride-to-be, for me to have passed muster.
Jeet also had a lovely main of hair, one of her major assets. However, both of us lost our hair, I progressively, she suddenly.
I got the telltale signal of what lay in future at a relatively young age: It was some times in Mhow that after the haircut, with the barber standing behind me holding a mirror reflecting his artistry; to my horror what do I see reflected in the front mirror but a patch of incipient baldness which grew and grew over time.
With its spread all over the egg, a stage came when I gingerly asked Jeet 'Shall I buy a wig? 'No' she said rather empathically ' I like you as you are.'
The ‘No’ not only acted as a balm to my bruised ego but also saved me a couple of hundred rupees and prevented me from living a life of guilt and deceit in hiding my baldness.
In her case the loss of hair was tragic, sudden and traumatic. Post her cancer operation she was prescribes a course of chemotherapy, a cure worse than the disease. The chemo, May or May not kill the virulent cancer cells but would definitely the healthy ones. And even before that would make the hair fall, which fell in bunches along with her unshed tears.
She, brave as ever, would tie a silk scarf on her now bald head and live life, valiantly, ignoring the prying eyes and the whisperings around.
Fortunately for her the hair grew thick and fast once the effect of the chemo wore off. She had her head of thick brown hair back, but I remain happy, completely oblivious, of my baldness as ever.