BY HARISH BARTHWAL 

 

 

MY WIFE’S eternal wrangle with me since last 40 years of our wedlock has been over choice of colours. I reflexively pick grey or dull, she chooses bright attires, clothing, cutlery, wall shades, and so on. I put on bright dress often during outings to atone for my guilt of not generally honouring her hearty wish for bright hues. She says, bright elicits vibrancy and zest for life though I don’t believe I have less of these either. My innate preference for grey and dull colours is something my wife, and later my daughter have yet to heartily compromise with. So has been with my grey hair, hereditary from maternal side. The first affront I suffered for my love for grey was on my marriage day. While I was ignorantly sitting on floor for a reason, my brother-in-law came closer, held my head, tilted it downwards and asked me just to stay in same position for a while. In few minutes he dyed all my hair. I was deceived of sorts due to their plan. That moment onwards, I succumbed to others’ insistence for adhering to social norms, and began dyeing my hair. “Why should others think that you are an aged guy while you are not” they pleaded in unison. I recollect an incident when my daughter was an MBA student, in early 20s then.

 

At dinner, my daughter revealed how grievously she was hurt at a morning event. I had routine of dropping my daughter to Metro station almost on way to my office. My car being under repair, we both boarded the local bus together. When she was alighting earlier, referring to me the driver asked her, “What about the Babaji (the old man) who had boarded the bus with you?” That came as jolt to her. “One must have modicum of sense not to adjudge other person’s age just by the colour of hair, she argued pensively. I tried to persuade her, if the other man overestimates my age, I don’t lose anything. Till many years onwards, myself being addressed as ‘Babaji’ remained intolerable to my young daughter. At yet another occasion, my friend Bhatnagar was accompanying me after office. As I was in the nick of taking right turn at a crossing, the green light turned orange. Sensing that the continually honking bumper-to-bumper vehicle behind may hit – as it actually did few years ago – I found it expedient to hurry forward. And lo, the traffic personnel at a distance halted me and directed to lay at the extreme left.

 

By now, I was preparing to shell out a Rs 500 note for the ‘fault’, as normative then, the man in uniform with flamboyant grinning face came to fore. While I was nonplussed, he made me at ease with advice, “Tau [great uncle], you are no more of the age to occupy the driving seat. It is right time to shift to rear seat now! Let your child be on driver seat. Go, but please mind my counsel!” In a crisis-ridden world with most souls bruised seeking protection, and assurance, grey haired are most wanted. They tend to provide protection, and assurance. Grey hair is righteously associated with grace, dignity, and additional respect. I am witness to it in crowded metro rail, buses and trains. Grey spells nonchalance, implying no vested interests. Yet most are fascinated by choose Those who colour their hair, I found few starting at retirement, are sure deprived of the multiple privileges reserved only for those with grey hair.