Yesteryear Rapunzel wants to visit the hair saloon

My to- do-list (Oh yea. I make them. Every time. Not that I stick to it. And neither can I find them when I need them.) for this weekend reads

Go Jogging
Do the laundry
Dry them ( for those of you who think this ought to follow, you dont know me!)
Iron them
Make the IT investments
Do a bit of studying ( I actually feel a bit guilty these days, not having done any studying over the past one year, after having been a student for like 21 years)
Vist the saloon
Make the shopping list
Go shopping

Now all the items on the list are plain enough excepting one. Now I sure am the one for procastinating things,put off things for tomorrow.
Aaj Karai So Kal kar, Kal karai so parson.
Pal me Parlay hoyegi, Tho karne kaheki Zaroorath
is how I used to jocularly recite one of Kabir's couplets.

Now, there is one thing on the list, that I have thought about, for like years.I have wanted to do it for years. Nope. Not my clothes. I wash them every week, how much ever I hate the job. :)Its the visit the saloon part.
For years I have worn my hair long. Plaited it actualy. Owgay... Oiled it and plaited it - my mother that is. I have had to compete with my locks for my mother's attention all these years. Me thinks she loves it more than me. She fed my okra aka math curry so that I could become another Ramanjum and milk and eggs 'cos it was good for my hair. She applied oil to my hair everyday and made me wash it with Shikakkai once a week. She forbade me to use the hair dryer. She religiously cut my hair every other fortnight, once in a while - the fortnight when the moon was waxing. It dint help. Sigh. And dint help to have a cousin whose hair was the envy of half of Hyderabad. The other half doesnt concern itself with such petty things. They have world peace and Tollywood dance moves to think about.
Now you always yearn for things that you dont have and cant have. And yearn I did. My sister had a hair cut. The lady at the beauty parlour wouldnt touch mine - she said she wasnt gonna chop away my beautiful locks because of my momentary fancies.
Hmmm.. Those were the days... When I was like the Rapunzel of my class....But when I am no longer one and when I no longer live at home, so that my mom can continue to maintain my hair, I reasoned out I definitely wanted and was "eligible" for a hair cut. Now, thats not very difficult right?
Wrong..... Not when you are me and have a mother like my mother. For years, she has been putting it off, citing every possible and impossible lame excuse and for years I have not had my hair cut. I guess its because its due to her genes that I used to have beautiful hair once and also because so much of hardwork and time ( my mother's of course!) has gone into it. And I guess she has'nt yet lost the hope that one fine day, my hair will mysteriously start growing and regain its lost glory.
The last time I went home, I went back to begging - putting on my charming persuasive self that my mother can look through.And she relented! Wow!!!! Finally.... And off we went to a hair saloon... Nope. I couldnt get one done that day. But what the hair stylist was just not so nice.. She told me I had very thin hair ( sob sob) and should go in for a step cut...You should have seen me some eight years back Lady!!
For those of you who know me and dont remember the long hair, it was before you. For those of you who have known me for a very long time and dont remember the long hair, you are suffering from amnesia. For those of you who think I am just plain deluded, please dont tell me so.
Now that its a green signal from Amma Jaan, all that is needed for me is to go a saloon. But the thing is.. Now I am not so sure if I want one. Like I am so very used to whatever it is that I see on the mirror.I mean you get used to things that you have been living with, for 24 years and 10 months and your mirror reflection is one of them.
I even bought some special green coloured oil that claims to make my hair grow stronger and longer, the other day, with the fond hope of giving my cousin some healthy competition. That runs in the family I guess - hoping I mean. Even when it is hope against hope hopen kinda hope.
I just hope I dont chicken out this weekend. I mean I hope if I do chicken out, I chicken out before going to the saloon;not while I am on the high raise chair. I hope I dont go shrieking when the hair stylist takes out her scissors. I hope I dont get to shriek after the job is all done. And I hope my mirror continues to smile at me.