Paati and my Mom were having major gripes about my hair ever since I disappeared one saturday afternoon and came back with short hair. Anything that happens, they blame my haircut. Even if I get a stomach ache, they manage to find a way to connect it to the haircut. A couple of days back, I proudly told them that my hair fall has come down considerably, since the comb was coming out pretty clean, unlike before when my hair used to drop by the clumps (disturbing, I know).
“Mudi irundha dhaana kottardhukku” guffawed my grandmother.
(Only if there’s hair, there can be hairfall)
“Haiyyo, aama ma, ippove ipdi na, ava Inter exam ezhudhambodhu sottaiyaaduva.” my very, concerned mother, interrupted.
(Haiyyo, yes ma, If its like this now, she’ll become bald by the time she writes her Inter exam” )
“Apdina kalyanam pannikudukambodhu mottaiya?”
(Oh so when she gets married, she won’t have any hair left? )
“Perumaale! Apdi laam solladha ma! Motta ponnukku epdi na payyan paakardhu?”
(“God! Don’t say stuff like that ma! How can I find a suitable boy for a bald daughter?”)
“Pesaama andha Buddhist-o gudhdhist-o, Burma-la irupaale, mottaiya, andha maari oru payyana dhaan paakanum. Budhdhist-la Iyengar pasanga irupaa la? Iyer budhdhist kuda ok.”
(Why don’t we hitch her to one of those budhdhist-gudhdhists in Burma or something…they’re all bald no? And are there Iyengars in these budhdhists? Iyer Budhdhist is also okay” )
Don’t you just love family?