By Trupti Joseph
Better out than in, say folks.
But only if it's a burp or a fart.
Anything else, like my opinions perhaps,
then bolt them in, dead or cremated down in the heart.
My people think they are just and theist,
a fault they are unaware resides in their thought.
Now, I like the others who were born bare,
I am sure there's nothing to dispute here.
But I, unlike the others, was born
before time and with an entire head of hair.
Sure it didn't last long, I was tonsured within,
first six months of my ephemeral existence.
And so again, the state of my crowning glory,
became directly proportional to my family,
and their theist beliefs, I couldn't care less.
I suppose, but no one can escape the choice.
Between living in shadows of snapping scissors,
or gruesome headache inducing plaits,
so my choice of poison became hibiscus and coconut oil,
which I occasionally brewed into a fragrant concoction,
wise say rolling stones gather no mass,
but oily hair in blowing air, do gather a mess.
As for the masses, they saw beauty and tradition,
I saw obscurity like my name written in soil.
So I quickly deduced, being agnostic was the way to be,
to be myself, to act my mind and to go oil free.
Life didn't get any easier, stares and compare,
weighed heavy on me than my once oil laden hair.
So I let go of the burden, to tidy up a bit and see,
to seek the scare of an exhilarating thrill, to be free.
I was instantly thought to be vile, disrespectful and brainwashed.
Obstinate, fallen in bad company or maybe, in someone's bed.
Perhaps ridden with illegal substances, and a bandit with a fresh haircut.
Gradual had been my transformation,
but sudden and severe was everyone's reaction.
My harrowing hair tale, still isn't an open and shut.
My crowning glory is now way past its prime,
yet its length, colour and state can be a social crime.
Too bold for my age, too many greys to unsee.
Will there ever be a time I can let me or my hair be free?
So I wonder, will my harrowing hairy tale,
thrive or fizzle out like an old wives tale?