I noted the first strand of greying, a while ago. Welcome the evening! I think I was in my late forties. I distinctly remember that I was grossly upset and palpably depressed.
Me! greying? was not my cup of tea. Brimming with youthful energy, virile galore and a self proclaimed Adonis persona. Signs of ageing ? naah!
I took no time in reaching my moustache plucker and sacrificed the lone crusader of my billion blacks on the alter of my pseudo gratification.
But the nightmare was not far away. Very next week I discovered another one, mocking loud.
In the coming months it became a habit to fish out grey hair from my reasonably dense locks like a simian looks for teeny weeny crazy bites in the fellow, lying comfortably on the floor of the roof.
Going through the ordeal of plucking every single strand soon had to be ceased as it was giving more pain than the pleasure of the endeavour to look young.
So I had to abide by the gusto of the parlour shelf, looking for my sulking youth to be garnished by the shades of Loreal.
At sixty, I still take heed of the shades, sparing some patches to make me realise that the day is closing and the evening will soon set in.
Why is the hitch to accept the autumn? Welcome your late forties.
The spring will never come back. The cycle of life doesn’t come around like the wheel of the weather.
How can one camouflage the inevitable? The imprints and impressions of greying WILL settle in eventually.
Why do we keep living, in a world of weak acceptance and strong denial.
This has to do with our brought up, our mental status. We keep spending fortune to combat the aggression of every stray wrinkle on our face by nurturing mushrooming farce parlours or umpteen sordid techniques whatsoever, comes to our rescue.
Well, my take at this stage { while I am still not completely out of the rut } is,
Honour the greying that is already set in & you are in late forties. Welcome the evening!
Love the crackling sound of the joints, the weight of the sagging reading glasses on the lower part of the nose, the popping in of the goddamn pills to control the metabolic changes and the stupid and weirdo stage when there is a gross disconnect between, “wanting to do”, and “not being able to do”.
The problem arises and should be understood is, Are we greying inside?
Are we gaining and maturing in our thoughts, perceptions and judgements, while dealing with people, relationships around us and more so dealing with ourselves.
If we are NOT, then for sure we need the magic touch of a parlour to make us grey inside.
We need to change and accept the change with clarity, dignity and poise.
We need to honour the changing status from Dude to Bhai Sahab, to Uncle Jee and of course later on, Baujee.
Sooner we understand and comprehend the truth, faster we will stop bothering for our wordily, plastic and cliche persona.
We actually then believe in our true worth and make our worth respected in everything around us.
Welcome the evening with a cozy corner, with heat in the fireplace, a charismatic book in hand, soulful music on the WiFi and a glass of choicest single malt on the rocks and not to forget, the lovely thoughts of the glories of love you have made and envisaged in your pink and vibrant years.
Start living now…
