HAIR: A post by Ruta Dharmadhikari

For the first time I am putting a piece written by another author on this blog. The piece is written by Mrs. Ruta Dharmadhikari. I met Ruta for the first time as one of the participants of an orientation course conducted by Nagpur University for young lecturers. As fellow participants, we interacted for a whole month. I do not respect many people; in fact I can count such people on the fingers of my two hands. No. Don’t get me wrong. I do not respect Ruta; for that she will have to slog hard, very hard at something she is actually good at – writing. The evidence of this was obvious even at the course that I have talked about above. A small piece had to be written by the participants on a series of photographs. Her piece was commendable and indeed the best. The piece that follows below is very well woven too.

Incidentally, Ruta is a Reader(?) in the Department of English, LAD College, Nagpur.


HAIR

My mother- in -law’s lovely long tresses depleted to a shadow of their former selves on account of the radiation and chemotherapy treatment she underwent for cancer. Her mother’s hair had maintained its growth and length and thickness (not its jet black colour, though) even at the ripe old age of 91.

As a young bride, I spent a lot of time with her and one of my daily tasks was to groom that Grande dame’s hair. Such a mass of long hair on an age- ripened head never ceased to daily astonish me. I would lovingly run a comb through the salt and pepper fall and untangle it gently; all the while listening to the answers to the leading questions I put to her about her family-and now mine.

She was my guidebook to Ashu as a young prankster, to Justice Saheb as a dashing upcoming lawyer and later well-known judge. As I oiled her scalp and massaged it vigorously, she introduced me to my beautiful, versatile and accomplished mother-in-law: dutiful daughter- in- law, caring wife and mother, gracious hostess and a career woman to boot, all rolled in one.

With each brush of the comb through the now well-oiled hair, my acquaintance with my extended family grew. My grandmother-in-law, widowed at age 30, had lived most her life with her illustrious son- in- law. Carefully parting her hair into three, I slowly learnt of each aunt, uncle and cousin. Every twist of each part, the fashioning of all three into a thick plait, wove me into a vibrant and energetic family. Midway through, a strand would slip through my nervous, awestruck fingers as I heard of her own experiences of raising three daughters alone, after facing endless death—a husband and seven children.

I would continue to plait those strands right till the very end … till there was not even a wisp left to plait. And then coil that thick-to-thin plait carefully into a bun, round and round and round at the back of her head. Positioning it exactly where she wanted it.

Hair. A woman’s source of beauty and pride: the loss of which is like the wrenching of heartstrings. Renowned feminist, Germaine Greer’s exposition- in her book The Whole Woman- on every womanly physical feature, needs an inclusion on hair.

Now, as I groom my mother-in-law’s hair in the same room, I try not to let her know what I know about her hair. But my mother- in- law is a wise woman. One of the wisest I know.

She knows.