As I was pulling the tiny strands of my beard, I gazed into the nothingness from my balcony. That had trees. Lot of them. I was lost in my thoughts. It is very difficult at times to understand my train of thought. It is weird. It is very dynamic (even for me to catch hold of it). It has a lot of 'stuff' and yet nothing in it. As in nothing useful. So basically, this is my past time. Pulling my beard I mean.
I thought about the first time I saw my beard sprout. I cant remember my age then. But one of my close friends joked about it in a lift car as we were reaching home. He said to me I should start shaving and told me about the brand of razor he used. Those were the days when the Dollar Shaving Company still didnt exist. Birdie was still a fledgling that didnt leave or had a will to leave the nest then.
I went to the market. With a lot of trepidation I got me a razor. I dont think I'd have felt that embarrassed ever in my life- not even the first time I bought condoms from the shop. The shopkeeper looked at me and laughed asking if those stuff (I meant the razors) were for my dad. I refused to look in his eye. It was a shop miles away from my house. I took the bus from school to go the shop. I had to save pocket monies because I couldnt ask my parents any money to buy razors. I mean, D-uh! Financial liberation at that moment felt like having the ability to buy my own razor. Which was all of Rs 10 then.
So I went home that day and checked the calendar to see it was not a Tuesday, Saturday or a Friday. It is extremely difficult, mind you, to get a day that is apt for a shave or a haircut if you come from a family like mine. There are more days for not doing somethings. I guess that's how they controlled economies back then. :-) Spend on lesser number of days so you spend very little.
On a Wednesday, I did the deed. I shaved this fuzz. I shaved that fuzz. I shaved those fuzz. I shaved these fuzz. And I couldnt come out of the washroom. I was paralysed with fear. I knew then that I was a birdie and not a fledgling anymore. I wanted to fly away from that nest. Into the skies. Where I met others birds. Who wouldnt recognize the fledgling in me.
Sigh- what a life! Nobody noticed anything. Not even my friend who mentioned I had sprouted. He neither noticed nor spoke the lack of the strands.
You might wonder why is this important enough to note in this journal- well. Think about it. Sometimes. Most of the times, perhaps we take our fuzz far too seriously. We think what others say is important for us to take an action on. People just say things because they feel like. Not because you like it. :-)
I thought about the first time I saw my beard sprout. I cant remember my age then. But one of my close friends joked about it in a lift car as we were reaching home. He said to me I should start shaving and told me about the brand of razor he used. Those were the days when the Dollar Shaving Company still didnt exist. Birdie was still a fledgling that didnt leave or had a will to leave the nest then.
I went to the market. With a lot of trepidation I got me a razor. I dont think I'd have felt that embarrassed ever in my life- not even the first time I bought condoms from the shop. The shopkeeper looked at me and laughed asking if those stuff (I meant the razors) were for my dad. I refused to look in his eye. It was a shop miles away from my house. I took the bus from school to go the shop. I had to save pocket monies because I couldnt ask my parents any money to buy razors. I mean, D-uh! Financial liberation at that moment felt like having the ability to buy my own razor. Which was all of Rs 10 then.
So I went home that day and checked the calendar to see it was not a Tuesday, Saturday or a Friday. It is extremely difficult, mind you, to get a day that is apt for a shave or a haircut if you come from a family like mine. There are more days for not doing somethings. I guess that's how they controlled economies back then. :-) Spend on lesser number of days so you spend very little.
On a Wednesday, I did the deed. I shaved this fuzz. I shaved that fuzz. I shaved those fuzz. I shaved these fuzz. And I couldnt come out of the washroom. I was paralysed with fear. I knew then that I was a birdie and not a fledgling anymore. I wanted to fly away from that nest. Into the skies. Where I met others birds. Who wouldnt recognize the fledgling in me.
Sigh- what a life! Nobody noticed anything. Not even my friend who mentioned I had sprouted. He neither noticed nor spoke the lack of the strands.
You might wonder why is this important enough to note in this journal- well. Think about it. Sometimes. Most of the times, perhaps we take our fuzz far too seriously. We think what others say is important for us to take an action on. People just say things because they feel like. Not because you like it. :-)
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