People do all sorts of efforts to look younger than they are. Rather than lowering your prestige, it raises your dignity and grace. Embrace it full-heartedly.
Among myriad others, one major issue of my wife’s eternal wrangle with me since last 40 years of our wedlock has been over choice of colours. I prefer grey or dull, she chooses bright attires, clothing, cutlery, wall shades, and so on. I put on bright dress often during outings to atone for my guilt of not honouring her love for bright hues. She says, bright elicits vibrancy and zest for life though I don’t believe I have less of these either. My innate preference for grey and dull colours is something my wife, and later my daughter have yet to compromise with. So has been with my grey hair, hereditary from maternal side.
How I began dyeing my hair: The first affront I suffered for my love for grey was on my marriage day in 1984. While I was ignorantly sitting on floor for a reason, my Jija ji came closer, held my head, tilted it downwards and asked me just to stay in same position for a while. In few minutes he dyed all my hair. I was deceived by their plan. That moment onwards, I succumbed to others’ insistence, and began dyeing my natural hair. “Why should others think that you are an old guy while you are not” they pleaded.
The sleuth’s precept: I recollect an incident when my daughter was an MBA student, in early 20s then. At dinner, my daughter revealed how grievously she was hurt at a morning event. I routinely dropped her to Metro rail station on way to my office. My car being under repair, we both boarded the local bus together. When she was alighting earlier, referring to me the driver asked her, “What about the Babaji (the old man) who boarded the bus with you?” The question came as jolt to her. “One must have modicum of sense not to adjudge other person’s age just by the colour of hair, she argued pensively.” I tried to persuade her, if the other man overestimates my age, I don’t lose anything.
The sleuth’s precept: At another occasion, my friend Manmohan Bhatnagar was accompanying me after office as usual. As I was in the nick of taking right turn at a crossing, the green light turned orange. Sensing that the continually honking bumper-to-bumper vehicle behind may hit (it actually did few years ago) I found it expedient to hurry forward. And lo, the traffic personnel at a distance halted me. As I was readying to shell out a Rs. 500-note for the ‘fault’, as normative then, the man in uniform with flamboyant grinning face came to fore. Though I was nonplussed, he made me at ease with advice, “Tau, you are no more of the age to occupy the driving seat. It is time, shift to rear seat! Let your child be on driver seat. Go, but mind my counsel!”
In a crisis-ridden world with most souls bruised seeking protection, and assurance, grey haired are most wanted. They tend to provide protection and assurance. Grey hair is righteously associated with grace, dignity, and additional respect. I am witness to it in crowded metro rail, buses and trains. Grey hair spells nonchalance, rising above no vested interests. Yet those bent on dyeing their hair even on the verge of retirement are sure deprived of the multiple privileges reserved only for those with grey hair.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Published in The Hitavada on 12 April 2024, Friday under Middle Space column, Edit page with the caption, Glitter of the grey hair. Link of article in e-paper: https://www.ehitavada.com/article.php?mid=Mpage_2024-04-12_355e7d3b1b488e0a59cda186a7522d9d66188a16413cf&JSON
Link of online edition:
https://www.thehitavada.com//Encyc/2024/4/12/Glitter-of-the-grey-hair.html
.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
Aged people even at death bed prefer black hair. Looking young always is sole objective of society.