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
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.
The End.
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? :/
