NY:Oil well
I'm sort of on a writing spree today.I don't think I'll be able to write much in the next two weeks so I might as well do it now:)
This one's again from school.I was much older when this happened--around 13(7th standard would be right,I think)
One of the predominant trends in a South Indian family would be the importance given to coconut oil and oiling your hair:P Mothers will not let you go out without drowning your hair in oil citing the hundred miraculous and nourishing properties it possesses to overpower all your protests.Ten years later,you will look at all your school photos and cringe at the overdose of oil:P Typical scenario.
My house was no different.Wait, there was a difference--I never used to protest the oil.I had really long,thick,lustrous black hair back then--hair that I would kill to have now:P I happily let my mom oil and comb it everyday. I used to look in the mirror(cursory glance lasting two seconds) but my perspective was different at that point in time.I looked to see if something was wrong with my face.For instance,had my bindi smudged all over my forehead?Did I have food on my face? I never once thought of how I looked.Funny,I know.
I also happened to love speaking--I still do.I loved writing and reading--be it prayers,speeches,guest welcomes,votes of thanks.I never used to volunteer for these things but would somehow end up doing them quite often.There was some really important occasion in school--golden jubilee I think and I was given the job of welcoming the guest of honor.I wrote my speech and practiced it a couple of times.
Finally,on the day of the speech,I carefully ironed my skirt and shirt and polished my shoes till they were gleaming.I would have looked okay--if I hadn't gone to my Mother for the hair.I told her to comb my hair well because I had a speech and it was a big day for the school--which to her meant pour more oil.:P
Like I mentioned before,I looked in the mirror oblivious to my predicament.I headed to school and went backstage where stood my friends and the teacher in-charge of the event.She looked flabbergasted to see me and I couldn't fathom why:P She was also a very sarcastic teacher. She took one second and then she went: "Jesus,child,what is wrong with you? Did you dip your head in an oil well?"
Thankfully,she let me go ahead and read,while taking a surreptitious glance at my head every two seconds:D This is one of the funniest comments I've heard and I can never forget it--wish I had a witty comeback then instead of staring like a deer in headlights:P
P.S:You know what the funny part is? Even after this,I didn't realize that my mom was over-oiling my hair for God-knows-what reason.I went about with my dripping-with-oil-head through all of school,pre-university and undergraduate college.The realization came with blessed graduate life:P
I hope this was as funny to you as it is to me:D
This one's again from school.I was much older when this happened--around 13(7th standard would be right,I think)
One of the predominant trends in a South Indian family would be the importance given to coconut oil and oiling your hair:P Mothers will not let you go out without drowning your hair in oil citing the hundred miraculous and nourishing properties it possesses to overpower all your protests.Ten years later,you will look at all your school photos and cringe at the overdose of oil:P Typical scenario.
My house was no different.Wait, there was a difference--I never used to protest the oil.I had really long,thick,lustrous black hair back then--hair that I would kill to have now:P I happily let my mom oil and comb it everyday. I used to look in the mirror(cursory glance lasting two seconds) but my perspective was different at that point in time.I looked to see if something was wrong with my face.For instance,had my bindi smudged all over my forehead?Did I have food on my face? I never once thought of how I looked.Funny,I know.
I also happened to love speaking--I still do.I loved writing and reading--be it prayers,speeches,guest welcomes,votes of thanks.I never used to volunteer for these things but would somehow end up doing them quite often.There was some really important occasion in school--golden jubilee I think and I was given the job of welcoming the guest of honor.I wrote my speech and practiced it a couple of times.
Finally,on the day of the speech,I carefully ironed my skirt and shirt and polished my shoes till they were gleaming.I would have looked okay--if I hadn't gone to my Mother for the hair.I told her to comb my hair well because I had a speech and it was a big day for the school--which to her meant pour more oil.:P
Like I mentioned before,I looked in the mirror oblivious to my predicament.I headed to school and went backstage where stood my friends and the teacher in-charge of the event.She looked flabbergasted to see me and I couldn't fathom why:P She was also a very sarcastic teacher. She took one second and then she went: "Jesus,child,what is wrong with you? Did you dip your head in an oil well?"
Thankfully,she let me go ahead and read,while taking a surreptitious glance at my head every two seconds:D This is one of the funniest comments I've heard and I can never forget it--wish I had a witty comeback then instead of staring like a deer in headlights:P
P.S:You know what the funny part is? Even after this,I didn't realize that my mom was over-oiling my hair for God-knows-what reason.I went about with my dripping-with-oil-head through all of school,pre-university and undergraduate college.The realization came with blessed graduate life:P
I hope this was as funny to you as it is to me:D
Perks of being an South Indian.
ReplyDelete:D
DeleteI vaguely remember you mentioning this incident to me once :p. But yes I can imagine the scene at school . Lol.
ReplyDeleteYeah,would have told you:D
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