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Shane Warne telling us how hair replacement won him Liz Hurley. I keep looking at Virender Sehwag’s head and wonder which body part it got grafted from. (Hair weaving, the follicle version of a heart bypass.)
And the ‘Before & After’ ads — ‘Get Your Confidence Back in 15 Days!”. The picture shows the guy on the ‘Before’ side, a modern Sad Sack, depressed, crying saccharine tears, his bald head shining like a polished floor. The same dude on the ‘After’ part sporting a hairpiece that should shatter anyone’s confidence.
We’ve made such huge strides in water birthing, wild life preservation and web forecasting, but centuries later, the wig still looks like a bird’s nest.
Men, with greying locks and silver temples, walk into their 50s, with head held high. The follicly challenged have to work on other strengths. (Unless of course you're Bruce Willis).
Lose your hair in your 20s, early 30s, whoa life is over, parents suddenly panic over you finding a bride.
The biggest enemy for the thinning haired man, is the blowing wind. He spends two hours in the morning, gelling the last remaining six strands of hair, pasting them painstakingly across his balding pate.
“Yes, my hair is now carefully arranged, the world will think I have a full crop,” he thinks, triumphantly.
He steps out, a vicious gust of wind appears, and boom, two hours of work down the drain, as the six wisps spiral up in the air like miniature ‘tornados’
And what’s with those damn air blowers at the entrance of airports. It’s like the Airports Authority of India decide, let’s build a new terminal, state-of-the-art conveyor belts, and for the scanty-haired passengers, let’s hit them with a quick burst of air as they enter, they need a scalp cooling moment, just before they collect their boarding passes from the check-in counter.
Kartar Singh Bindra, my old school buddy, always wore his traditional turban, till the mobs attacked in 1984. A month ago, I notice the turban’s back.
‘“What’s up, Sardi,” I enquire fascinated, “Re-discovering Sikhism?”
“Nahi, ji…upar se baal thodasa kum hai,” he confesses, sheepishly.
Imad Moinuddin, our other school pal has always worn his Bohri cap, religiously, “You guys will never know if I am losing hair or not,” he announces proudly.
Guy’s it’s a racket — blame your maternal granddad, blame Mumbai’s stress, blame who you want, it ain’t coming back. Wig it, weave it, transplant it, do anything, it’ll just be cosmetic, it’s temporary. It just isn’t God’s will.
My sum up — Don’t let the touts scalp you.
Rahul da Cunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at rahuldacunha62 @gmail.com
The views expressed in this column are the individual’s and don’t represent those of the paper.