Scalped dreams

Baldness, once a sign of wisdom, is now treated as a cosmetic catastrophe.
| Photo Credit: Getty Images

Meerut recently witnessed a hair-raising spectacle, literally. Hundreds of hopefuls, with shiny heads, lined the streets, each clutching dreams of thick, flowing locks. Their destination? A group of apparent quacks peddling a “miracle oil” that promised to rewrite their follicular fate.

The happening speaks volumes of our collective vulnerability to promises of instant fixes, especially when it comes to our appearance. It’s both amusing and thought-provoking that the streets turned into a bustling hub for this modern-day alchemy experiment.

A queue of men, freshly shaved and optimistic, eagerly awaited their turn to purchase bottles of this elixir. The scene might have passed for a bizarre local festival, if not for the serious determination etched on every scalp. The sellers, clad in dubious credibility, rattled off tales of miraculous transformations, complete with testimonials, dramatic before-and-after photos, and the inevitable “limited time offer”.

But let’s be real: beneath the hilarity lies a sobering truth. The quest for hair or youth or beauty has often clouded our better judgment. From Cleopatra’s snake-oil concoctions to the Romans’ burnt-mice potions, humanity has been chasing miracles for millennia. The Meerut episode is just another chapter in this fascinatingly futile saga.

We have all been tempted by quick remedies, haven’t we? Miracle creams, weight-loss pills, even motivational courses that vow to turn us into billionaires overnight —vanity, thy name is gullibility. And yet, when it comes to hair, people seem to be willing to take an extra leap of faith (or perhaps, desperation!). For what has been lost to the ravages of time and genes, reason often takes a back seat.

The miracle oil in question had an ingenious catch: it only worked on completely bald heads. This condition turned even the “partially follicled” into willing participants. Patches of hair were ceremonially shaved off, and those with proud islands of follicles joined the shiny fleet, razors in hand.

I wonder if someone in the crowd thought to ask, “What would Shakespeare, with his Elizabethan receding hairline, say about this frenzy?” Perhaps the Bard would have quipped, “What’s past is prologue,” and reminded us that hair today, gone tomorrow, is a natural progression. But he would also have chuckled at how baldness, once a sign of wisdom, is now treated as a cosmetic catastrophe.

Baldness is no fun. It can dent confidence, spark insecurities, and turn mirrors into adversaries. That said, baldness isn’t the end of the world or even the end of charm. Yet, it’s worth reminding ourselves that icons like Anupam Kher and super star Rajinikanth have worn their baldness like a badge of honour. A shiny head, after all, does not dull a sharp wit or diminish charm.

Miracle oils, alas, usually belong in the same category as burnt mice and crocodile fat. Still, hope springs eternal, even if follicles don’t.

As the sun set on Meerut’s shiny heads, the hopefuls dispersed, some clutching bottles of miracle oil, while others sauntered off with a tale to tell. Over steaming cups of tea, the bald brigade likely found more to laugh about than lament. After all, life itself is a splendid, chaotic mess of hair-raising moments, literal or otherwise.

For those still hopeful, remember to tread carefully, lest we turn into the unwitting stars of the next slapstick comedy on the streets of Meerut.

krs1957@hotmail.com