Red-Hot Hair Haywire!

I began writing this with a heavy heart...sob, sob and an imaginary sad wailing tune in the backdrop because they say sound effects help magnify the impact of what you wish to emote. Socha tha kya n kya ho gaya...types song...
A tragedy had transpired, the magnitude of which should be ascertained in the days to come....

Background information dene ke banti hain yaar yahan....
Madam Mandira Bedi is at fault...
How you might ask? Well, she recently adorned a brand new make-over in a reality show on television, with beautiful short red streaked hair on her cute head. And despite me not being a huge fan or belonging to the category of senseless and swooning masses, who ape fads by jumping on the celebrity band wagon...I think, this time I was caught in a weak moment. I have been aching for some change in life and routine from a long while and my dearly beloved has been getting an ache at the idea of taking me on a holiday. So the beckoning red head of Mandira had me completely in its grip, struck by a steadfast awe and also awwwww...And I reached the parlour next day for my date with experimentation and a make-over to club me with the ranks of the fashionistas! Move over plain Jane!

It’s funny how people just go to such places...maybe with pictures of their stars and just declare...“Make me like Aishwarya” or something...Or weird still, imagine guys hitting the gym and saying... “I want a body like John Abrahim”. If it was said to me I would just ROFLMAO. I was wriggling at the idea of doing it myself and somehow kept beating about the bush...I inquired about all the possible shades of red...not able to mouth out what exactly I wanted...Madam Mandira ji, I hope someone’s flattered you so much before so that I don’t do the best sucking-up-to job in town or rather nation in this case!

After an exhaustive and baffling session of rejecting most of the reds...some were too dark, others too tacky...some too copperish or too burgundy...my eyes fell upon the increasingly growing red face of the beautician....Ahem...ok...time for some action before her red should give me the blues...
“Have you seen this Akshay Kumar programme called Fear Factor?” I crooned...trying to hedge my way to the issue.
“What! You want hair like Akshay’s?” she blurted.
“Grrrr....no wonder you are here madam hairstylist coz your sense of understanding is just senseless...I am not confused or planning to confuse the public with my hair gender choices”...I didn’t say that in so many words...I was sitting in a chair before her, with big tufts of my hair in one of her hands and the scissor in another...I better be good to her....or get a handful or mouthful or whatever...no puns intended again!

And finally Mandira madness came out of the bag!
“Oh ya” she said...and I thought...waah, waah an accent...maybe this gal is not a dumb bimbo after all!
And then she told me the words that every man and especially women should beware of when going to the salon....
“Don’t you worry...I have understood exactly what you want and you are now in safe hands.” I was in her hands, alrite!

Phew! I was relieved....How wonderful that at least certain things in this world exist where you are understood without the necessity of expression...Little did I realize that like the mooh maya of our existence...this is also just a make belief! A big fat myth!

A huge black apron was fixed around my neck and loads of water splattered on my head...and my mind was picturing the lady in the garbs of an executioner and me being buttered up for a capital punishment of sorts! “Would all red lines be too stark for me?” I queried thinking of the lines of kiddies who come to me for studying and apprehensive of their shock stricken faces. “Hmm...It would be, I guess”, she said. Wow, and what were you waiting for to tell me that mademoiselle...after my head is done up with the damage? “I’ll give you streaks of blonde in between...it would suit your white complexion”. And like always, compliments make me scatter-brained enough to lose the sense of comprehension and I smiled knowingly. And she knew, “hassi to phassi”!

She took out big dollops of some weirdly sperm like liquid in a not so big bowl...and I instantly pictured the flick ‘There’s something about Mary’...I was hoping this would not be another “hair-raising” experience! And then with her expert fingers she unruffled my tresses, holding me by the back of my neck and I feared if the sperm like liquid in her palm was making her horny! Thankfully the drill ended in two minutes but to my horror I began to feel her pat on my cheeks slowly and suggestively... “Ma’m you have great skin...soft and smooth and radiant”...I was waiting for the catch...there better be before the seduction blows out of proportion. “You must try our new facial...meant for skin like yours”....Phew again! My izzat was safe despite those closed walls...I had passed the pass!

I told her to just concentrate on my hair...on my head....no matter how distracting the rest of my appealing or lack of it body may be!
She began using her pins to uplift little lines adding the blonde and red tinges...I sat there in the glow of a light bulb right over my head which made the red shine a burning crimson. I decided to not panic but wait with baited breath and ordered the butterflies in my stomach to do so too till all those foils on my head were removed and I get the final look...So with a foiled head and hopefully not a foiled look...I watched the hands of the clock tick...and soon it was washy-washy time! My head was laid on the basin as the old me was being rinsed off.

I looked at the mirror instantly being a critical judge as well as ready to console myself in case there’d be a bolt from the blue...in this case red! Hmm...I was unsure...she was sure.... “Mast lag raha hain ma’m...” Hmm...Should I trust her or blast her...I was unsure again and dissecting the length of mutilation....for thin pin lines of bright red and bright blonde looked back at me from the reflection of the mirror. I was now technically half redhead, half blonde head and also half my original brown head...there can’t be three halves, right? So in all and completely...let’s just say a dumb head! She gave me a haircut complimentary and got down to it...haircut that is! Within minutes of hair drying and giving me a shorter flick on the forehead and curly bounce to the ones behind...I was all set with my new look. It was different for sure...and I kind of liked it with a nervous excitement!

Now what was awaited was the world’s verdict...I paid the damages and trotted off from the saloon with a new sense of what I thought to be oomph and airs about me...At the insistence of my net friends, I immediately took some snaps of my new avtaar holding the camera myself and after rejecting 10 not so hot close ups...I uploaded one on face book that passed off as decent enough...And then the wait again...the jury was in council and the accused waiting for doom or bloom...
And...
And...
And...my world came crashing down...a bare minimum twitters of whistle n wink and an obvious roll of shredding me apart...and half an hour later the picture was removed from my profile page. Like always I had not waited for the axe to fall on my feet...I had sauntered my way onto it! I was burning red...not at the right place! I could kick myself for giving in to the spur of the moment...but then just a kick would not suffice for a big ass like me!

My hour of glory became my hour of massacre...my brother leading the march in the laugh riot....Of course brothers are envious specimens but then some of my so-called friends ganged in too in the leg pulling game...till thank god for a dear friend, who finally soothed me into the belief that the picture’s not so good....but I am actually looking hot and happening! What the heck...might as well live with looking like a white sauce laced tomato on a brown plate for a while!

And slowly the curves round the corner of my mouth began to rise up again...Saturday night it was and we hit the disc after months of my wanting to do so. I told me dearly beloved that using the night as a camouflage, perhaps I would just mingle in the crowds and not be so horrendously noticeable...He held my hand proudly and said I looked awesome (alrite, the deep necked top over my jeans should partly share the credit)...and he looked deep in my eyes...that made me believe that I did...And I ventured forth...only to be showered with generous compliments and “wow’s” and gentle touches of my tresses. I did not mingle for a change...I was right there at the centre getting jiggy n giddy with it, in a way I had thought I would. I was basking in praises and enjoying the admiring eyes along with the reassertion that certain risks in life are worth it! Well, all’s well that ends well? It sure is!