I had had a really long day and all I wanted to was, hit the sack. So sympathising with my tired eyes for having subjected it to hours of incandescent radiation from the mobile screen, I took off my glasses, when I caught sight of a lone strand of white hair on my head peeking out from behind the stiff black locks. And then, all hell broke loose. I began tugging at it in an attempt to see the last of it – when my mother caught me in the act. What followed was an hour long sermon (on how if I pull this one strand out, a hundred more will take its place), stern reprimands (for the rustic state of my hair.) and my incessant bawling (Because I clearly couldn’t stand the shock).
As I googled for remedies that might help put me out of my misery, I carefully tucked the reason for it beneath the still, seemingly dark mane, in a belligerent attempt to shield my age along with the other insecurities that threatened to oust my reality.