Gripevine

A classic love story always ends with both lovers dying together, one partner dying, and the other living on and eventually dying of a broken heart. As myth, legend, folklore and history will tell us. The other half of a truly loving relationship will find it inconceivable to go on in normal fashion, once their partner is no more. In most of these 'classic' love stories,  the woman is always the epitome of feminine beauty, and the man is always dashing and every ounce the virile hero. Which is why the story of Shah Jehan and Mumtaz Mahal, and the monument of love he commissioned in her memory - the Taj Mahal, has fascinated the world for centuries. Because of her marble mausoleum and the story of 'great love' which led to its construction, Mumtaz Mahal became and is the most famous Mughal woman of her time.   The Mughal woman I'm more fascinated with however is Nur Jehan or Mehrunissa. The 20th and last wife of Emperor Jehangir, the father of Shah Jehan.

 Last Friday I walked into a shop at Amcorp Mall that sells hair products and accessories. As I entered, I heard a customer whining to the sales staff at the counter about her hair. Said customer was a middle-aged Indian woman with long freezy hair down her back. When she noticed me, she gave me a look and told the staff at the counter: " You see lar, we Indians all have this kind of hair only." I was quite amused that she was putting me in the same category as her, considering that I don't have a huge lump of friz bobbing down my back. If only someone had given this woman some sage advice about managing her thick mane, maybe she wouldn't be whining and hankering after silky-smooth stresses - which she naturally cannot have unless she resorts to rebonding and rebonding till death, by which time she might no longer have any hair left. If only someone had told her that maybe she should not have her hair that long! And that perhaps she should trim it a little