I was in 10th grade, when my moustache was the talk of the minute. I was told “Look you’ve got a visible moustache now, sutradhar (narrator)!” (We were rehearsing for a play). The point of the comment, was that I was apt to play the narrator, because I had the most hair on the moustache among all of us.
That same year, during the end of it, I’d be studying in the house of the person, who’d become one of the best friends I’ve ever had, along with two other classmates. My moustache, was picked up as a topic of discussion again, by one of them. I didn’t know why, but I was tempted to tell them them a fact that I had lately loved to strike my fingers though, over and over again. I told them that there was this stripe of hair running from the top of the chest towards the lower abdomen (accompanying my weird excitement with hand gestures, running my hand like a hand model over the middle of my chest). They snickered. The teenage me took that as a pride instead of a hint to act embarrassed.
I’m 22 years old now, I live in a 1 BHK apartment, and there are hair all over the place. My bums have hair, my penis is surrounded by hair, like flower surrounded by endless unscrupulous unsolicited plantations of weed. Not that my penis is being compared to a flower, how could it be. It’s black, it’s small, it tilts left in a boner. No flower could ever have those characteristics (or could it?)
Oh about the hair all around the apartment? I’m in my chaddi (underwear / shorts) most of the time, and my hand keeps going inside it, for no particular reason. If you just had your witty sense of utter abysmal thinking at work, think again! Why would I masturbate in my underwear or shorts when I’ve the apartment to myself? My hand just likes to keep itself busy. I wonder, how would it spend time, if I shaved my pubic hair.
I’m sometimes tempted to, just for the sake of it. But I don’t have much problem you know. It gets itchy sometimes yes, but not that itchy. Just that level of itchy, where my hand gets to go inside and scratch gently to relieve it.
The only problem that I face, is when someone is coming over for a visit. That’s when the exercise begins. And especially if that’s a girl friend. The broom’s bristles are untrustworthy. They’d pick up the hair in one swoosh, and throw them down in the next. And because the (hair) is so small, I wouldn’t know what event happened when! And when I’d have a time limited assurance that they have been swept away, just because the floor looks clean, they’d all get wet, stuck to the floor, all the more, when I’d sweep the floor with disinfectant water. That’s some pain to bear, believe me. In those moments I think of ordering a trimmer online. But then laziness dawns and I greet the person, talk, eat, part them well, and sleep, without every asking them if they saw the hair all over the floor when they sat down on the mattress (I’m a bachelor, I don’t have a bed).
There’s one another small problem with hair in general. It’s just a matter of a couple of minutes between bathing – getting ready, and sitting on the bike. I’ve hair all over the body, including the head. It gets difficult to get the body dry, so quickly as to wear clothes that would not be a little wet for a while (I’ve small hair, I do not use a hair dryer). And then there’s the helmet. I go by a by pass route at the start of my office journey, which connects to the main road after 1 km or so, to avoid a little traffic. So get the liberty to go slow with the helmet hanging onto the arm, so as to dry up the hair as much as possible.