No Hair, No Oil; #HumorinDesiLife

 

No Hair, No Oil

To put it diplomatically, I have scanty hair on my scalp. It is better than saying I have almost no hair. Alopecia is my family inheritance, passed on dutifully from generation to generation. At the best of times I have difficulty in keeping my hair in place. My hair style becomes precarious after hair cuts as every hair starts behaving like a disciplined soldier and stands up erect. To get them to take it easy, I need to apply either hair oil or gel. As I suspect hair gel or its earlier avatar brylcreem of having depleted my crop, I have taken to using coconut oil to bring some semblance of kempt to my hair.

In late autumn of 2021, I had a planned trip to Brussels for meetings with the EU. As I expected the weather to be cold and windy, I decided to take my black woolen cap to protect my exposed upper story. A concomitant concern was the effects of using a woolen cap on my hairdo. I was particularly worried about the consequences of taking off the cap before entering meetings. Obviously the hair would be all ruffled and standing. To mitigate this potentially disastrous outcome I decided to pack some coconut oil in a small bottle that I had, much like the one we get in airlines for moisturizer. In the kitchen I found two similar looking big bottles, one was of cold pressed coconut oil and the other was cold pressed groundnut oil. They had been presented by a friend who was launching a range of satvik products by the name of Haribol. I carefully poured the oil from the big bottle to the tiny one, taking care not to spill any oil.

On the KLM flight to Amsterdam enroute to Brussels, I found to my delight, a jar of hair gel in the aircraft toilet. Such is rarely the case in airline toilets. Normally one finds liquid soap, moisturizer and eau de toilette. This was different and certainly an auspicious omen. I made several trips to the bathroom to tidy my hair by applying hair gel, on the not so long flight from Delhi to the Dutch city. 

In Brussels we checked into the imposing BeauxArts style Steigenberger hotel, with impressive lobbies, hallways and guest rooms. In the washroom with gilded fittings, I confidently placed my small bottle of hair oil on the marble shelf alongside with the other custom made toiletries such hotels provide. I was ready to take on the force of the wind on my hair.  

Early next morning, after the ablutions of shave, shampoo and shower, I was ready for my well groomed look. I looked reassuringly at the mirror, poured oil out of the small bottle and applied it liberally on my head, conscious that I would need my hair to sit pretty on my head throughout the day, even if I had to use the cap. 

The oil slicked in nicely. I combed my hair and was all ready to get dressed when my nose sensed a strong smell emanating from close proximity. I sniffed around, not sure about the source. Soon I realised that it was coming from my hair, not the pleasing sweet smell of coconut oil but the cooking oil kind of smell of groundnut oil. I was smelling like a person who had fried samosas all day. I panicked!. I had bungled it by pouring the oil from the wrong bottle back home in Delhi. 

There wasn’t sufficient time to shampoo again. Instinctively, I looked around in desperation and my eyes settled on two bottles on the bathroom shelf, one the ubiquitous hand sanitizer and the other my travelling companion, a bottle of CK perfume. I decided this time the perfume would be a better choice, so instead of spraying it on my clothes and neck, I sprayed it profusely on my hair to mask the smell. 

Throughout the day in meetings my nose was on overdrive, sniffing. I wasn’t at all confident of the outcome of the potent chemical reaction of perfume with groundnut oil. Most likely the strict Covid protocol of social distancing and wearing masks worked in my favour and saw me through the day. 

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