Treasure Island

Nikhil Parekh

(27/08/1977 / Dehradun, India)


I didn't need shampoo to clean my scalp; instead a glass of tainted
could excellently do the job,
On the other hand you required tones of bubbly froth to cleanse your
evacuate the petulant granules of dandruff neatly entrapped between
I didn't need gleaming hair oil to smear on my head; all I had to do
was clap
it loudly with my bohemian palms,
On the other hand you required swanky ointments; antiseptic creams to
keep the
conglomerate of your hair well in place.
I didn't need scintillating scissors to use on my scalp; it would
wholesomely ludicrous even if I held one in close proximity with it,
On the other hand you required a plethora of sharp instruments; pairs
intricate razors; in order to occasionally trim the unruly tentacles of
I didn't need a brush to part my scalp; as it nimbly obliged to my
it with a dust cloth,
On the other hand you required a luxuriously serrated comb; to
entangle the incorrigible knots formed in your long hair.
I didn't need to camouflage my scalp with a taut piece of cloth every
time I
ventured out; as there was no danger of the wind blowing it away,
On the other hand you required to embellish yourself with a
grandiloquent cap;
a host of flapping sunshades; in order to ensure that the thin wisps of
hair didn't rip apart with the tenacious breeze,
I didn't need to incessantly browse my hands through my scalp; while
pompous parties,
On the other hand you required to sporadically run your fingers against
cuticles; making sure that they remained stringently aligned.
I didn't need to wash my scalp after bathing in the saline ocean;
instead let
it to dry over a natural course of time,
On the other hand it was inevitable for you to stand beneath a steaming
shower; to annihilate all the poignant salt trapped in your greasy
I didn't need to consume a battalion of salubrious vitamins to make my
glisten; simply standing under the blazing sun itself; granted it an
enchanting shine,
On the other hand you desperately required to procure every tonic
available in
the market; to impregnate an artificial luster in your lifeless hair.
I didn't need to submerge my scalp into ravishing cologne to get
people profoundly admired the openness of my head wherever I went,
On the other hand you used to apply the most enticing of gel on your
lackadaisical hair; and yet remained unnoticed.
I didn't need to coat my scalp with black chemicals; intermittently
apply a
blend of paint and water to keep it in shape,
On the other hand you were exorbitantly conscious about the greyness in
hair; painting it with brilliant dye; remained busy all day trying to
the insipid strands of white.
Therefore it is my earnest prayer to you O! omnipresent creator; to
create me
without hair for the next 100 births; if I fortunately took birth on
this soil
as man,
For I considered myself infinite times luckier to remain 'BALD'; than
from the unrelenting tyranny of possessing clusters of bushy hair. 

Submitted: Sunday, August 17, 2014

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