Oct 24, 2009

The Tale of the Poppy Boy

To escape from the embarrassment happened to me by the two consecutive love posts – Ancient Love Affair and My first Love – I think I have to go back to my childhood days to check out some interesting incidents there. But, while the searching process was going on, what suddenly struck my mind was a funny incident happened during my college days. To tell the truth, this too was a contemporary to My First Love and Letter to Jonnie Walker and having a close relation with my mindset portrayed in these two.
I won’t say that I was an attention box; but definitely was one craving for attention from all sides as a freaky teenager. I was of the habit of thinking every day, regarding what to do something weird or what will make me noticed. I did some experiments with my poor hair and a ruthless me had attempted several hair styles, but none of them was really worth making someone to look. One day I went to my hair stylist and asked him to make my hair so short that only half an inch (exactly) of each hair would remain. This fellow didn’t do that, though he made it shorter than the usual. But according to my conservative parents what I did was ‘undisciplined and more than what needed.’
I was sure that the barber would be of any use in satisfying me as his regular customer. I took the final decision and on a fine evening I began to make my hair short myself, not with scissors, but with razor. It was easy first, what we need to do is to just shave the hair softly so that only the tips of the hair would be removed. After doing this process for a little time I raised my face to look at the mirror to see the success of my experiments. But, what I saw in the mirror was strangely enough to give thunderbolts and lightning in my heart along with a nervous shock. I first thought that I was fainting and I pinched myself to make me believe that the sight on the mirror was a dream. After earning virtually some courage I looked up at the mirror again and what I saw was a fairly big white area of round shape on my head, where it was a few moments ago black with the presence of hair.
First I got disheartened, but soon regained my conscious and I picked a gum pot and applied a little of it on my head where it lacks hair. Then I collected some hair from the floor and put it carefully on the ‘white space’. You won’t believe, I went to the college more than two days with my fake hair without anyone in my college as well as in home noticing it. But on the third or fourth day, when I was really confident to manage with it for a few more days, at the cricket ground while fielding along with my play mates, everything fell into trouble when my young little cousin brother saw me and expressed his affection towards me.
As I understood that I was not able to suffer the weight of gum and broken hair, I opened up my problem to two of my friends. They too shocked seeing my state and urged me to adjust with my false hair a few more days till the hair grows. But one of them suggested me to go total hairless and I accepted that idea. Only then my weight on the heart got loosened and the difficult part of getting permission from my parents was managed with my tactics.
I went to see my hair stylist and simply said him to shave all of my hair. With a hesitation he did it and I went college wearing a brown cap and that was the greatest hair style, which I could ever imagine. The first day, my English teacher, (remember the one in Letter to Jonnie Walker) who was my uncle, hurried towards me seeing my ‘piteous state’ and asked ‘what happened’. Wearing a crying expression on my face, my explanation went like this:
“I was studying last night, suddenly power went, I lit a candle stick and tried to by-heart the poem that you taught me, I don’t know when I slept. But the candle stick tumbled down and it caught my hair. Though I soon woke up I had lost a big part of my hair,” with no delay he explained the whole things to the girls at the other end.
The following weeks saw the golden days of my college days. It won’t be a much hyped lie if I say that during those days I got a maximum number of admirers among the girl sector. The pet name that they gave me was the ‘Poppy boy’ following two famous icons of a popular umbrella brand in Kerala.
A week later the same story was published on the newspaper on campus column as if it had happened to someone else. Then I understood how the newspapers make stories and news.
Oh God, I feel that I have written yet another embarrassing post this time also. This may end me up to renaming the ‘Vanity Moments’ blog into ‘Embarrassing Moments’.
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