(de-)Evolution: Hair Gel To Hair Oil

I vividly remember. My mother would look her legs around me and get a grip. It was a smart way to hold a hyperactive little devil who hated what was to follow. Out came the blue plastic of Parachute and the thick goo or thin slime poured out depending on what the weather was like. What followed was a juggalbandi of howls and frets, one party fighting the other. I always lost. By the time the death grip was released my fully oiled hair reeked of coconut complicating the stickiness of all the tears that I wasted. This was the daily routine of oiling. I was four.

As time went on, learning tamed me. Somethings were better left unresisted. And may be that brought with it a certain pack of Smarties or Kinder egg. It was a fair deal. Suffering was rewarded. How subtle yet profound are simple things in life. This phase of learning though didnt last long. I was more of a man every passing day. One day it happened. My mother didnt recognise my voice when I blasted through the doors back home from school. Lessons ended, I was no longer a cub. The teen years were teen years. Change was the mantra. Especially changing everything that even remotely seemed to vindicate the lessons handed down from the adults, those darned adults.

Move over oil, welcome hair gel! Parachute gave way to a long line of contenders for the job of styling my hair. Notice that style is the keyword here. But before the the gel era, there was one occasion when the hair oil routine was broken. After a trip to the barber I wanted the mist-sprayer/atomizer that those fellows used to wet the hair. I realised this could make my strands bend any which way. That was the first acknowledgement of the need to style. This led to a tantrum and a misled father buying me a Silvikrin Hairspray Ultra hold. Yes, I used hair spray.

It started with a cheap jar of Man gel. Now I know that sounds shady and may even trigger humorous but untrue ideas. But that was the first hair gel I used. From there I moved onto Wellaflex. High school is plagued with such kind of standards. Everything had a defined best. Wella was the best for hair gels. That too was an ultrastrong hold. Haircuts had to be tailored to suit the use of gel. What would later come to be known in India even till as late as 2002 when I joined college, the 'dil chahta hai' cut now simply called spikes was already prevalent by 10th standard. Also I had my own take on the Ultrastrong holds dilute it with some water and get that slick look. What essentially I was aiming at was a Wet look.

StudioFx from L'oreal followed. It was a wet look gel. But either my cohort wasnt completely conversant with reportoire of hair products or my image was not consistent with a cool dude as one of the sad fallouts of the wet look gel was a question that was often shot at me quite innocently, why is your hair so oiled up? Much to my annoyance I tried to stop explaining that it all was about. I took my hair gel quite seriously. After some more tubes of StudioFx and may be even some DesignerFx I finished school and arrived in India only to be more aggravated my friends who had not experienced the hair gel. And so the questions of oily hair abounded. Ofcourse not everyone cared as many of the guys themselves had bathed their locks in oil.

The careless attitude that took me over in the later part of the first year lasted a long while or may be even to the end of medical college but in second year during a trip to Kuwait I did purchase Clairol Herbal Essence Hair Styling gel. That was the dawn of a newer understanding. Thick black locks are not forever. Grey showing more frequently made me to look at my hair gel with an eye of suspicion for the first time. Style gave way to worries of Healthy hair(yes I know hair is actually dead, but still). So for those occasions like the Hyderabad trips and the college days when I still cared to groom myself, this more conservative gel devoid of special effects like strong hold and wet looks served me for a long period.

The postgraduation period which was mostly time spent in the library, hair gel took a back seat. Although I lived in Toronto, the libraries of the University of Toronto provided a certain damn-care environment where what did you did was your own statement. And so I benefitted from the collegial confusions of those kids and dumped the hair gel into oblivion, till Akka's wedding. A bad 450 rupee Jawed Habib haircut later hair gel was needed to salvage the remanants. So it was Garnier Fructis hair gel this time. And it was pathetic, probably the worst hair gel I used even more so because it came in a small spray bottle like the one that started it all at the barber's shop. Luckily for me it leaked on the way back to Toronto and so found way to the trash can.

Now more than ever I understand that beautiful hair, flat abs and toned biceps are not forever. Just at 24 I start to realise that this body needs to be cared for or else I would find it taking a beating of a lifestyle which is still very erratic. In Los Angeles a couple of days ago I found my bava's Parachute. And on the way to the shower just emptied a blob of grey slime and rubbed it into my hair. The premature grey was starting to show ever more prominently. I was scared. And this time it was the death grip of my fears of losing my youth held me down while I lost the battle to myself. I oiled my hair. The circle was complete.

At 14 or 15 there are things you believe can never happen to you.