It’s true what people say. The grass is always, always, ALWAYS the darkest possible green on the other side. Wondering why I’m saying that all of a sudden? Let me tell you a story.
Once upon a time there was a little Malayali girl. Almost everyone associates a Malayali with jet black curly hair. And being a true-blue Mallu (and due to the teensy fact that both her parents had curly hair), she possessed ultra curly locks. Thanks to which, she was generously bestowed with nicknames ranging from SaiBaba to Noodles. The girl hated being called all those names. Wherever she turned, all she could spot were girls with perfectly sleek and straight hair. She envied them. And detested her own hair. She prayed to God everyday to give her lovely straight hair. She also loathed the fact that her hair never seemed to grow. And even if they grew, it seemed as if they were growing upwards. The girl tried to comb her hair down neatly. But she realised it was fruitless as it would jump up like springs in the matter of a few minutes. She tried oiling her hair to hold it down. That proved futile too. It was impossible to tie her hair as well as leave it loose. The girl was disheartened.
courtesy- Google Images
courtesy- Google Images
The girl grew up. She decided to go ahead and rid herself of the torture of having unmanageable hair. She walked in to the nearest salon with confidence and asked the salon lady to iron out her horrible curly hair. The process will take a few hours, the lady said. The girl was adamantly clear about what she wanted. She was prepared to sit for a few days, if need be, but she just wanted straight hair.
After five excruciating hours, the process was over. The girl looked at herself in the mirror and saw a different person. The person in the mirror had lovely long straight hair. She was elated. She could hardly believe her eyes. It was a dream come true.
The girl straightened her hair a few times again, when they threatened to curl back.
But now, when the girl looks around, all she can spot are girls with lovely curly hair, flaunting their locks like some prized possession. The girl looks at her half-curly-half-straightened hair and gets dejected. She wishes she had not straightened her hair. She misses her curly tresses terribly and wishes she could get them back as soon as possible. She has decided not to straighten her hair again and is waiting eagerly for them to coil right back to their previous positions.
By now you would have figured out that the girl in the story is yours truly. If you haven’t, well then you know now.
Sigh. Why is the grass greener on the other side ALL THE TIME? :/