19 April 2020

 

I remember when I was 6, I used to tuck my mother's duppatas at the back of my ears and pretend that I have long hair because, I hated my bob cut. She told me once I grow up and learn how to wash them properly I'd be allowed to grow my hair as long as I'd like. I couldn't wait to grow them and hence grow up and be responsible. I rushed through those years trying to wrap sarees as my dadi, attempting to eat on my own and pretending to be an adult.
So well, I grew up and all of this happened. I could grow my hair, I could cook and eat my food, I could work and be whatever I wanted to be. I grew up and they grew old. Well, that is not exactly what the 6 year old wished for, but it did happen. I got my wish with its terms and conditions.
I look at my dadi's grey hair, my father's weakened bones and my grandfather's breaking voice and the only thing I wish today is, for the time to be at hault. I don't want lustrous hair, monthly paychecks and ability to be independent at a cost of time.
I remember when I was 6 and I wanted to grow up so fast so soon! I am almost 23 today and I don't want to grow my hair anymore, I want theirs to not turn grey, so fast, so soon.