Old | But I Smile Anyway...

This is it… #ThrowbackThursday

I mentioned finding some of my writing from my youth in an earlier post. My mum loved this piece of writing that I had composed at school, it even won me an award in a writing competition!

Reading it now, seeing my views on marriage at the tender age of 14 was quite funny! No, this is not a biographical retelling of my own wedding morning, but it was different in so many respects when it actually did happen, but oh, so similar too!

I hope you enjoy!

It was five o’clock this morning, when I woke up. I couldn’t believe that today was THE DAY. I got up and was greeted by the grinning faces of all my sisters and parents. Everything had been a dream up until now, but, it was all finally happening.

I was pushed into the bathroom as everyone told me that today I would need the most time to get ready. I spent half an hour trying to scrub the oily turmeric putty that had been applied all over my arms, legs and face so liberally the night before. Incredible that I managed to sleep with all of that greasy ‘muck’ on last night, but then, that’s what tradition dictates, so how could I argue? The next step, washing all the oil from my hair, also applied last night, some type of blessing. I didn’t mind the blessing, but the ceremonial oil, I could have done without! It really doesn’t help when you have overenthusiastic sisters and cousins who go through the ritual, just to make you look a mess!

Finally scrubbed clean, I went downstairs to have my breakfast, having been told that I ‘need to keep up my strength today’. Downstairs, everyone was busy, some drinking tea, some ironing their clothes, with extra care. Mine, of course, had all been done the previous night, the privilege of being someone in my situation! It was quite funny to see the whole house turned completely haywire, and all because of me, while I sat, eating toast and watching everything with much amusement!

Soon, the group of overexcited women and girls grabbed me, dragging me back up to my, while I was still trying my hardest to finish the most important meal of the day! Everyone seemed much more excited than me, rushing to and fro, trying to get ready, while watching me as well. I started to get nervous so my cousin ushered everyone out of my room, with the strictest of instructions that no one was to disturb me now.

She brought my makeup, toiletries and ‘The Outfit’. Then I was sat down and she started to comb my hair. Slowly the frizzy mane was tamed and became a neat pleat which was not going to be seen by anyone today (not until much later!) Next was my makeup. Basic makeup, light, but emphasising my eyes and mouth. Then came the tricky part, the ‘bindis’ across my forehead. Bright pink, green and white was used to create an elaborate, elegant pattern above my eyebrows.

The following stage to getting ready was putting on all of the jewellery. I had a gold set, consisting of a necklace and earrings. This was put on, feeling so much heavier than the costume jewellery that I usually wore. Then the traditional ‘tikka, hanging down the middle of my forehead. So special, it was passed to me from my mother who had worn it at the same juncture in her life. The next adornment was very uncomfortable, the nose ring, connected to a chain which hooked just about my ear. Then I had two bracelets with five fine chains attached. At the end of each chain was a ring to go on my fingers and thumbs. I was already wearing the most important element of jewellery, the set of bangles, my ‘chura’, put on me last night by my maternal uncles.

Now, finally it was time to dress. I had always dreamed of wearing this outfit. I pulled on the bright pink top, and the long, swinging skirt, its hem reaching my henna pained feet. The skirt had beautiful gold embroidery on it, whereas the top was completely plain. My cousin then proceeded to arrange my ‘dupatta’, my scarf, on my head. Low enough to cover my face, but high enough so I could be seen respectfully.

I then slipped the pink shoes with matching gold embroidery on. Traditional shoes always complimented a traditional outfit, rather than gold heels. I looked in the mirror and a completely different person looked back. Surely that couldn’t be me!

Everyone was knocking on the door now, wanting to see me, so my cousin slowly opened the door to gasps of wonder and compliments.

By this time it was eight o’clock in the morning. Three hours had passed since I had woken up, and it was still just the beginning of the day. We were hurried into the car as we had to leave now if we were to get there on time. I had begun to shake now, so my cousin, who sat next to me, held my hand. She admired the elaborate henna patterns on the palms and backs of my hands. A deep, almost black maroon/red colour which had taken the whole night to achieve.

The car slowed. We were finally there. I didn’t want to get out of the car, but I had no choice really. I walked in and was taken to a small room, with several chairs, a sofa and table in it. Tea and some samosas were brought for me, and my cousins and sisters who were with me. I was told to stay here until I was called, and it was time.

We sat, the girls giggling to each other, and other members of my family passed in and out of the room, blessing me, telling me how lovely I looked, and giving me kind words of encouragement. I was given another cup of tea ‘to keep my strength up’ but I was totally unable to drink it.

My brother walked in, looking so smart. When did he get so big? This signalled it was ‘time’. I got up, and my brother took hold of my arm. All of my girlie entourage came behind us. We walked up the stairs and soon entered the crowded room, after removing our shoes. All eyes were upon us as we walked down the middle of the room. Closer and closer I got to the holy book. Finally I was there. There was no going back now as I knelt, and paid my respects to the Guru Granth Sahib by bowing my head and touching my forehead to the floor, ‘matha tek’. I sat down at the front, and slowly turned my head.

This is it – sitting next to the man who is about to become my husband. He turns his head and smiles. Is he as bewildered as me? I look back at the holy book, and smile to myself. This is truly the beginning of my new life – as a married woman.

To Dye Or Not To Dye

I sat here agonising this morning. I looked in the mirror and was greeted with the ‘Roots From Hell‘!!!!

Ok, ok, they aren’t really that bad, in fact for anyone else, unless you came up close and inspected, you wouldn’t even notice!

But for me, I can see them, they are practically waving at me saying “Hi! remember us! We are your original hair colour!!! And we have the all new white in here too!!!”

As an Indian, my hair is naturally very dark, and though I never wanted to go the polar opposite, I’ve experimented with all manner of styles, from high lights to low lights, various shades of browns, coppers, all sorts, in the name of fashion, and ‘looking good’. I remember once asking for some chunky high lights, you know. flashes of colour as your hair moves. Well, I came home to a 1 year old Little Man who sat and stared at me in wonder for ages. Why was he looking at me like that? Well, when I checked in the mirror, what hadn’t been glaringly obvious in the salon or coming home as it was a late evening, and dark, was that the lovely hairdresser had given me fine, not chunky, blonde highlights all over, and I actually did look ‘blonde’! No wonder he was looking at me strangely! I hated it, and went back the next day to get it all toned down!

Then necessity set in. Years of experimenting, and then I noticed the white strands peeking out from my mop. Only the odd one, and with my curls, quite hard to see. But that was the problem. I had seen! OMG!!! I was getting white hair! Oh woe is me!!!! Where did they come from??? I got all the oldies in the family saying it was my fault. I shouldn’t have messed with my perfectly lovely (but boring) natural hair. Was it? Should I have not touched my hair? Oh well, no point in lamenting now. It’s not like I can go back in time!

So now, it is a case of I have to, rather than I want to. I am the expert in home colour (why spend upwards of £60 for a block colour, when you can do it yourself for a tenner?!). But it does creep up on me, everytime! For a few weeks things look great, then I start to see this band of very dark hair at my forehead, peppered with white (yes there is more now!) and I need to get the colour out and go back to my lovely chocolate brown instead!

My mum used to dye regularly to disguise the white, and then The Change set in and her every changing crazy hormones decided that they no longer liked dye. Instead she would wake up to black or brown stained pillow cases every morning, as the sweats kicked in and after replacing a huge amount of bed linen, she gave up. My Pops was happy, he wasn’t one for cosmetic beauty, he likes the natural look, and they are both growing older gracefully, with their salt and pepper locks (and beard in my Pop’s case!) and it suits them both too.

My MIL went white overnight in her 30’s due to some family stress, I am told. She wasn’t allowed to stay her natural lighter colour, it would make her look too old, so she has been dying and re-rooting every week for nearly 30 years. When I got married it was a very stark jet black she was using, so I did the daughter thing and helped her find a kinder shade, I mean if she was gonna have to do this, at least find something flattering. She’s an attractive lady, and the black was quite scary, if I’m honest! So for her, still a necessity but she looks lovely. I do ask when she will stop, I mean FIL is a steel grey now, they could do the graceful thing too, but I think that is still a step too much!

Back to me and mine now. My Hubby Dearest is known as the ‘silver Fox’ He looks gorgeous with his specks of white in his beard and hair, but he asks whether he should cover it. I tell him every time that he looks amazing as he is, and no he should stay as he is, so why can’t I take my own advice? Gosh, life would be so much easier if I wasn’t worried about these silly things. Hubby Dearest says the same to me too, when I go to dye, he looks at me and rolls his eyes. but he knows I wont stop just yet.

I mean, a couple of years ago, I found my first white EYEBROW hair! Really??!! No, that’s not good! isn’t that just a step away from old lady whiskers??? Good God… does that mean the dreaded white will also be due to hit ‘down there’??!!!

So, I’ve done my duty tonight, I have revived my hair again, feeling good, and I think I need to stick to growing older dis-gracefully for a while longer!