Ten years before my grandfather died,
He smelled
like Brylcreem and Old Spice.
His hair
was little more than a fringe around the ears,
Paler and
finer than the hair that grew
Out of
their orifices.
And yet, he
smoothed it down
The way I
do my tumbling curls.
He and I
both know
The buzzing
irritation of wispy hair in the noontime:
Like flies
of one’s own making,
The strands
stroke your cheeks
Making you
cringe and recoil,
The memory
curdling your blood for weeks.
When my
hair is dirty, it flies everywhere,
Straining
against my oily scalp,
Struggling
to break free from my follicles,
The wispy
filaments
Yearn to be free.
Like the clinical description of hair
ReplyDeleteAnd I recently found a green tub of Brylcreem in a small town in Kerala.. Pure nostalgia
My father used to use both the brands you write of :-)
My grandfather was from Kerala too! I wonder what ad campaign popularised Brylcreem in that generation.
DeleteThis brought to me the part of the family that were Old Spice and Brylcreem. I must admit that I did try the Brylcreem when I was in school, hoping I would be let off for some intransigent coils but that didn't go too well.
ReplyDeleteThank you for this.
Thank you for sharing that memory, Geethanjali! I don't think I ever tried Brylcreem myself, but a little hair gel is a must for me these days just to get my curls to look a little less flyaway.
Delete