The Acceptance

It all started in my thirties.

It is hard to recollect when I saw my first gray hair popping out of my silky bunch of black hair—something that had been my identity, a reason for praise and appreciation, for over three decades. Days passed, and so did years, and I indulged in what most people racing towards their forties do: dyeing hair to make that futile attempt to look young.

I was not ready either.

The urge to color them grew stronger each time I saw my reflection in the mirror. The mirror—what a wonderful piece of invention it is. It shows you exactly how you look. Over the years, watching yourself in the mirror becomes an obsession—to look good and to seem young. Unfortunately, seeming young is closely associated with black hair, and gray hair is inappropriately taken as a sign of being mature, aged, or old.

Deep in my heart, I knew that someday I must accept the fact that my hair is graying and I am getting old. I have crossed forty. Am I in a mid-life crisis? Everyone goes through this phase. Even the Gen-Zers of today will. What is the modern life expectancy? How many more years do I have to live? Gray hair brings all such thoughts to your mind. Certainly, one is not ready for this phase, at least not instantly. For some, this non-readiness may take decades. For me, it was no different.

In a nutshell, a bold gray look is not easy to accept. I was hoping to carry this look after my fifties—it seemed obvious to own such a look after living on the planet for half a century. These were my thoughts to pacify myself.

“Your gray hair does not bother me at all,” said Priya one fine Saturday morning. “Why don’t you stop applying the black poison on your head?” she advised.

I knew this was not the first time she had given me this advice. This time, I was serious about it.

“You are the only reason why I comb my hair. Let’s accept this!” I declared as I hugged her tight.

It is important to be presentable, but at the same time, it is important to be original. Wearing filters and not revealing your true colors is unfair, and realizing this is maturity.