Toy stories
The days of toy stories…

How long it has been that I have not settled down carelessly in the courtyard of my country home and let my grand mother caress me? When I lay down in the bed now, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, I can see those frozen flashbacks of us in an sultry afternoon which gradually vaporized into the purple sky of sleep. When the small, wimpy kid in me returned home to you, weary and yawning incessantly, you would pull me close and I would hide my face in your saree, you would smell of the turmeric you used to cook our lunch. Then those soft, cold fingers would weave waves through my hair, carefully breaking its way through some obstinate knots of my careless mane as I looked at her with puppy eyes.  I was fascinated with braids and found their formation a pseudo rocket science. So, when my grandma pulled back my black curls to make braids I would close my eyes tight, trying to concentrate on the flux of her fingers.    She would oil my hair and I would feel the ripples being made and then the twitching of  the strands would start, moving three of them apart, then one on the second , second on the third, weaving down my nape till she reached the end and invaginate them with red, shiny ribbon. The next moment I was happily jumping around the courtyard, picking on the pickles she had laid to dry with my braid jumping along in unison.

She has left the courtyard now, we don’t meet there, we live in different vistas of existence and non-existence and when these days I stand in front of the  mirror staring hopelessly at my split-ended , limp, life-less brown hair I wish she was here to make them bridge among themselves

..but I could only wish.

A few days back when I was surfing through T.V channels, finding nothing good to watch,  I chanced upon a DOVE commercial, which promised to reduce split ends by four times and nourish hair till the ends. For a moment a ray of hope glistened and just a second later a stark realization dawned on me, of many such failed attempts to get back grandmas touch through those bottled liquids.


…but I tried one more time, hoping to get back my bouncy curls, wondering if I can again flaunt a beautiful braid!

Braided Moods

An evening of good food and sweet whispers  was interrupted perpetually by my lover’s incessant finger weaving through my hair. He was elatedly talking about how my hair smells beautifully and how they are so smooth when they brush against his skin and how they fall tidily on one side of my face and how he can pull them back to their place. I was grinning ear to ear as for once and for all something had worked wonders.


Maidens and braids 


That night I was standing infront of my own reflection, looking through my brown    eyes, gazing at me, myself, running my fingers through my hair, trying to make them into a neat braid, like the ones my grandma did. I made one, maybe not exactly like she made it but I did somewhat closer and I am thankful that I could ever make this happen. ONCE AGAIN.

Thank you Dove!  🙂

…and for all my friends who are still trying to figure how to tie a braid, hope you find this video helpful for your hair that will  Never Split Ever! 🙂


Published for The Dove~ Beautiful Ends to Your Beautiful Braids Contest on Indiblogger.

Check out the all new Dove Split End Rescue Shampoo here.

Photo courtesy: Google Images. 


2 Comments Add yours

  1. wow 🙂 really very interesting post 🙂

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