Jala Bula Jux

Last weekend, I learnt about the mid-night marathon that was happening in Whitefield and thought that I should be there to click some snaps! Incidentally, GAPP (a friend) also called up and said that he is going to run the marathon. So, I was off. The turn-out was average, not too many people but it was not bad also. The crowd was minimal. Lot of guys who finished the run didn’t have anybody to cheer them! And I hope the guys who finished got their certificates.

Anyway, some pictures here.

Once upon a time in modern India, Jala Bula Jux had long hair.

The long, irregularly curly, rough, jet black hair with strands of grey here and there wasn’t a pleasant sight to say the least. But immaterial of the awfulness of the looks, I have to admit that it took days and months of labor in the form of oiling and shampooing to make the hair not as messy as it would without them treatments. It was a proud feat and I was a man with long hair.

The concept of having long hair was a long time dream. As a kid, I always wanted to have the hair that would rise and fall like a tide as I run into bowl the first or second overs of inter-school and club cricket matches. But I grew up in a small town in South India and in this part of the world teachers and parents have this habit of making sure that children in the community have short hairs. When I say parents, it is not just your parents. If you are out helping your mum with some grocery shopping, a neighbor parent would walk up and start a social conversation and invariably they will have to touch base on the progress of their respective child(ren) in various activities. And then, they would give you a glance and say “Mudi valanthurthey, kolanthaya hair cutting kootin polaya?" (The hair has grown longer, didn’t’ you take your baby for a haircut?) even if you had slightly longer hair than the rest of the children. That is it, the seed is planted.