Circle of Love
When I was a little girl, my mother's thick flowing black hair fascinated me. Braided into a long plait that curved down her back, its serpentine swing, as she walked, made her an object of envy. People always asked for her brand of hair oil, which they believed, was responsible for her gorgeous mane.
The impressionable young girl that I was, I too wanted to have long silky tresses like my mother. My favourite refrain was, "When will I have hair like yours?" Like most mothers, my mother too quelled my anxious queries with a home spun recipe: If I combed and oiled my hair every day, and had the mandatory weekly oil baths, I too would have hair like hers, if not better. It seemed the perfect formulaic solution. And so I followed this childhood mantra, with the zeal of a quester in search of the Holy Grail!
When I was 12 years old, however, my frizzy, unruly, gravity defying hair that preferred to grow sideways rather than downwards, showed that it had a will of its own. The mantra seemed to be ineffective. But I was as tenacious as a barnacle on a rock. Finally my grandmother (whose curly hair was a genetic legacy she bestowed on me!) broke the spell by announcing that I could never expect to have long tresses like my mother as "Both of us have curly hair that can never grow long!"
For a pre-teen, it was the ultimate disappointment. I resigned myself to the pronouncement. But throughout most of my adult life, I nursed this secret desire in the sacred spaces of my inner self. When modern technology arrived with the allurement of hair straightening, and shampoos designed to transform frizzy hair into a perfect advertisement for the ultimate shampoo, I yielded.
Very soon, however, I realised that the spiky straightened hair seemed so artificial and unlike myself. Today, I rejoice and completely accept myself and my frizzy hair. It seems to have a certain character and vibrancy; a certain hardiness and resilience like the desert vegetation. Of course, I am amused by the fact that all those shampoo ads for silky tresses are some glib copy writer's play on words, as nothing can transform my iron gossamer mane!
Today, as an adult, I realise that life is all about accepting oneself. When we truly accept ourselves, we can in turn reach out and embrace others in an endless circle of love.
