She – Will you colour my hair?
No, thank you.
Yes, i answered letting better sense prevail.
Cut to her bathroom
You know i have never coloured anybody’s hair? I shouted out my general disclaimer just to make sure this doesnt come back to bite in me in the arse.
‘You will do a great job — i’m sure.‘ she said busy emptying the hair colour thingy-ies’ into a plastic bowl.
‘Here, stir this together’ she handed me a bowl that had a mix of thick white paste & very thick creamy goey substance.. My disclaimer was totally ignored. I started to mix the two -she opened up her hair & got ready.
For how long should i stir? i asked, clearly not ready for the responsibility.
You will know – she assured, making it known that i was going to be responsible, ready or not.
There’s only one glove – she claimed. That changed the subject and my mood. Is this a sign? Can i? Will she? Shall we? All kinds of questions, bad omens, superstitions floated in my head that minute where i wore that single glove on my hand.
Oh i forgot — there is another pair. She showed me another pair — too late. I was feeling the pain.
We can sit in the balcony outside. I said feeling a rush of brazen, reckless energy.
The chair in the hall is fine — she asserted in a gentle yet non-negotiable voice
Clearly only one boss here.
Cover up the whites wherever you see it — avoid touching the forehead — have fun while you do it.
No — i cannot. It’s just……
She didnt like my answer. But right then what choice did either of us have.
I started slow, tentative & shaky. I spread the thing unevenly, smudged, parted hair with my ungloved hands – felt iky & not comfortable at all. She’s young, the white is spreading — made me more determined never to colour my hair. It goes white it stays white. I continued my half-ass attempts at colouring.
Till I suddenly thought of my mom.
I respect my mom so much more now. I spoke out aloud.
Caught off-guard, she took a moment before asking ‘what?’
‘Mom also had a lot of greys’, i paused for a bit, before adding ‘and this isn’t easy’.
No it isnt, she smiled.
She had said it was enough — but now i wasnt satisfied. I wanted to do a good job.
I put on a fresh pair of gloves over my blackened fingers, took a comb & went to work. Separate the strands, colour deeply, spread evenly – we moved on to the next set of instructions with ease and comfort. I wanted to cover it all, see the even spread – she had her eyes closed, smiling like a cheshire cat, I even asked M the help to click a few pics — knew i would be totally blogging about this. Talk about work with pleasure.
Thank you, she said
No dont say that. I objected. She understood my point. We were in sync.
‘This cane chairs in the hall — they would look great outside,’ i tried my luck.
She – I think they are fine inside.
And thats that. The boss had spoken — colour my hair — not my house.
I smiled and went off to wash my hands.
Writing credits – Soni Anthony
appam stew n prawns patiyo 