The Goth IncarnateI got a haircut. I cut down my tresses I had grown for over 2 years. I was looking for change, but had no guts. Everyday, felt like getting rid of the tresses. But never did. It's like your hair becomes you, your comrade, your symbol of being a girl...the tresses are inherent to being a nymph, the mane that shines as you bounce about the place, the sway of the breeze moves so smoothly your hair, the way you can always play with it, as you mesmerize a fantasy.
Well I and my hair had become best-friends.
After having been a tomboy and with a short haircut for over 20 years, I had allowed girliness to creep in, and I became someone completely different. And who would believe that my poetry would get me a haircut, make me believe in me again?
I usually do my hair from a place called Zero Deigree, you know the trims and the works. Never give it any style. So one day, I was on facebook, saw a message from Sapna Bhavnani asking "last minute fuckers" to send in their poems, coz she was gonna decide on a Monday. And well it was only friday, and I thought, "what the heck, let's just send our lil contribution". I did.
This is the one, where you lovely people gave your wonderful comments, which was the reason why I sent it, such a confidence booster you guys have proved to be. Thanks gypsy, saim, shreeja, kavi, roy, dsinner for that boost!
Here's the link
I go in there, with a friend, hunting Mad o wat, and boom, i find it, I find Sapna in black, busy holding out a packet of cigarettes, talking to the receptionist, Me holding a box of chocolates, and well, we start the trial ..lol..and well, she's darn sweet...I am the poetry compettion winner, so I get attention.
A celebrity hair stylist, was I in awe coz of that? Hell No! I was in awe because I would often read her articles in the Mumbai Mirror. I liked her gothic style of writing, if you'd call it that, it was mostly sprinkled with free verse. It was usually beautiful, with black blood, and green vomit. But it was beautiful. It was somebody's life. Ponderings. It was her. Her loss, her father, the drinks, the funerals and of course, Elvis. I was talking to her, live in person. It was sort of say, epiphany like. But nevertheless, with the candid nature she just burst open her gift packing of the chocolates, and yelled at me "You got me chocolates!" ...ha ha...and then got down to business, one of her compatriots whispered assertively at me" Cut it short"..And I replied.."Err..It took me two years to grow them" And I could see her smirking from the other end.
Oh man. But hey, she comes over saying "Hey Youuuu" And me in my sombre innocence, just giggling like a lil girl, letting her hair taken care of by an awesome gothic chick, which I could never be. With the whole and soul i admit I am. But nope. I am more explicit in my thoughts, murdersome even, but not in appearance. Well, I keep up the appearance of "Appearances are deceiving". So, with a few compliments on her ladyboy poem, I asked her why wasn't she playing Elvis? and she replied, "You see, Elvis is for relaxation days". I knew what she meant and well, She just went right ahead, did her thing, made me look cute, after ages, I've looked my soul. Thank god, like getting life back you know.
So Here's me:
