Tress 'n me

Have you ever glanced longingly at someone’s long tresses and wondered what made it shine and glow and grow so well?

Growing up years I yearned for the same.

I remember letting my hair grow from the age of 9.

No more cutting.

It was always well oiled, plaited into two neat plaits, the ends tied down and no using rubber bands which cut the hair.

Saturday morning bath was a ritual.

In most homes in Tamil Nadu this was the custom.

The mom warms the hair oil, seats the daughter down and bends to massage the oil well into the scalp, firmly believing with every touch that the hair and scalp thus got its nourishment.

Then a nice warm bath to wash away the excess oil.

No fancy hair dryers to ruin the texture of the hair, hands used to lovingly wipe and dry the hair.

Some folks then smoked incense to bring out the natural fragrances.

Weekend Bliss!!!!

My mom did this and more.

I loved my hair- my prized possession.

My crowning glory.

The day I had to remove the split ends, meant tears, tantrums, no eating the whole day and sulking in bed!

I understood that my mom did this for my good, yet I would brood.

The hair oil was homemade- my mom took the milk of the coconut, heated it, strained it, added herbs and flowers to give it more strength, cooled and bottled it.

This she applied lovingly on my hair every day.

I remember mornings getting ready for school meant setting aside 20 minutes to get my hair plaited and tied neatly.

Night time, before bed, I brushed it well and tied it up neatly again.

Shampoo was taboo. Here again my mother bought soap nuts, got it ground, added more herbs and flowers to give it a lovely sheen and to prevent the hair from drying.

She used to towel dry my hair and I know how much pain that must have caused because of the length and thickness of my hair.

Way below the waist, so thick it required two towels to dry it.

It was not just the preparation, but the love and care that went into it

The time spent with my mom while all this was taking place was personal.

This was when the mother daughter heart to heart talks used to take place.

 It was our private time, we were not the kind who would sit and have a talk about the birds and the bees, but these moments where when such thoughts were slowly fed and massaged into my head.

And my hair and I both basked in that loving care. Long, thick, lustrous, the kind that I would ogle at!!!

When my mom was lying helpless in bed after her surgery I returned the favor.

I combed her hair for her!!

Today,

I have daughters of my own, they unfortunately have not inherited my good genes in hair and their texture differs from mine.

Straight, straight, straight.

I try to do all that my mom did for me.

Unfortunately I lack the patience and my children the love for long thick hair.

They are not the oiling kind, they prefer TRESSemme shampoo!!!

Yet, the time I spend massaging, drying, combing their hair is my personal time and we have our talks, we share our laughter, we have our secrets.

If hair could talk, ours could tell a saga!!!!