Crisis - Hairstyle

I read quite a few blogs to notice that most of the morons of my age were going through an identity crisis (Who am I ? What's my purpose ? and all that crap). I realized it was too petty an issue to be worried about. I also learnt that most of them write crap and hence, as a blanket rule ; quality doesn't matter in this world. Goodbye "Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance" fundaa. Goodbye Phargeus ! You never made sense to me.

There are three things that are occupying my mind right now :

1) Are blogs/bloggers really a force to reckon with (as the media portrays it). I'll figure it out sooner or later (in the latter case the media will inform me). It isn't that big an issue.

2) I had a sudden writer's crisis of sorts a few days back; No, not a writer's block (my block is so permanent that I've bored a hole through it to survive in the blog world). I thought writing only funny stuff was a sick thing to do. Since I am doing it again, you know how well I've resolved that issue.

3) But the foremost issue gets title Three. It is a hairstyle crisis. I know Men (I am no longer boy. no arguments on that) styles are available only in two sizes - long and short. Yes, over the decade we have tried to improvise and make the platter appear full - spike, mike, crew, slick, mushroom, potato and other hot titles.

My teachers always had me believing that I had a wonderful head. My mother always had me believing that I had a wonderful head of hair. While the former point is ruled out, my unshakeable confidence in these follicles are beginning to weaken at the keratin level.
Hairstyles in my bachpan were no issue. In fact, till a few years back, hair-style wasn't a term at all. 10 straight years, it was a curt instruction given to the barber - "Bhaiya zaraa baareek kaatna", which meant a close shave effective for the next n months. I am sure it wasn't a monetary issue. Mithun-da style has been lampooned in this house since my birth and any association with it would have meant outright blasphemy. Hence the procedure. The barbers gave it different names - Katora Cut, Crew Cut, Army style. It was a peaceful 'setting' till KGP happened.

Kharagpur instilled in me a great disrespect for the discussed profession. Believe me, they do a really bad job here, especially Sunil Saloon. Hence my hair grew beyond the unthinkable two inches length at college. With time, I relaxed my standards. Now, I sit at home with hair almost reaching 5 inches, and waving beyond control.

Now, my guilt and style fundaa are in conflict.

Centre-partition has given me temporary relief. But as a principle, I'd never attempted this at all. It's a sin! My decade of ignorance robs me of any other ideas. I find Hrithik Roshan sporting lengthy hair, Aamir Khan with curly locks (or is that a wig). These non-entities of peer pressure suddenly seem to support my stance.

A visit should solve the whole problem. But I find it hard to convince myself to part with this gift. Maybe this is what is called attachment. What is the purpose of my hair ? What is my purpose in life ? What-ever !