Of the many things that mark the transition from boyhood to manhood, the most important is, without doubt, facial hair. Now I have been trying to make this happen ever since college, but havent been able to because of a small technical problem, the beard just wouldnt grow. I have tried everything in my power, I tried the reverse causal theory, which is this, normally, you shave when you have grown a beard, but according to the reverse causal theory, you grow a beard when you shave often. That didnt work, or if it did it wasnt perfect. I did eventually, over a period of eight years, make some progress but the growth was so sparse that nobody would accept it as a beard.
About a couple of weeks back, I was at esskay’s, who acknowledged the little bit of hair as a nebulous beard, and said that given sufficient time, it could pass off as a genuine beard. I did have a tiny problem though, the moustache just wouldnt link up with the beard, but hey.. neither did Che’s. Anyway, since that day I have been channeling all my energy into growing a beard.
There are a number of reasons for me wanting a beard, it would resonate perfectly with my character.
The beard shows laziness.
It shows a bit of untidiness, a certain filthiness, call it what you want.
It shows disregard for authority.
Almost every unix guru has a beard. (http://www.s5h.net/wiki/Unix_beards) I am not a unix guru, but growing one certainly puts me on the right track.
And finally, as my friend Dexter says, it is rugged and chicks dig it.
I have been growing a beard for about 20 days now and it has been.. how can i put it.. hell and misery. It itches and scratches every minute of every hour of every single day. Its like having a thousand piranhas gnawing at my cheek flesh. I have often wondered why husbands of pregnant women grow beards. I think it is a way of showing solidarity with the mate by voluntarily undergoing pain that is similar to what the woman undergoes, it is like saying ‘hey.. i know how it feels, you are growing a baby down there and me up here.’ I just cant sleep on the side, any contact the pillow makes with my face disturbs the delicate arrangement of the sword-like hair-lings, which while trying to settle into a new order digs out a chunk of flesh. I should have known that the beard is not for everyone. Nobody in the family grows one, be it appa, perippa, chittappa, maama, chinna-maama. Even my octogenarian tatha, who despite suffering from a bad case of parkinsons never missed his shave-day.
I just couldnt take the pain anymore and finally gave in this morning and made the long walk to the barber. Actually, the barber shop is just around the corner, and it wasnt such a long walk, I am just setting the mood here. Naayagan music was running in the background, well.. it wasnt, but it would have been fitting. The barber did his job and in doing so relegated me back to a boy. I guess I have to accept the fact that I am still a boy. Operation ‘Da Beard’ has ended the same way as Bay of Pigs.