Men are from...who the hell knows?!

He: So, I cut my hair!
Me: Aaaaargh! Why? Why?! It isn't even summer!
He: Whats your problem? You were the one running around a month back hollering "I want to cut my hair!"

Men. They trudge around with crew cuts and baggy jeans, shirts that should be worn by someone half their size, or double, wearing enough perfume for eight horses and three cows, or smelling like eight horses and three cows.

They either know something about fashion but just can't remember what the capital of India is, or they're incredibly smart and wear pants that show off their underwear.

Why am i allowed to cut my hair and you're not? Let me tell you.

1. Women hardly cut their hair so that it is above their ears.

2. Our haircuts normally cost more that fifty rupees(including the head massage).

3. The person who cuts our hair is not a fifty five year old man who has just been yelled at by his perpetually nagging wife for forgetting to buy the groceries, and has a gigantic pair of scissors in his hand.

4. We never fall asleep in the beauty parlour.

5. We don't think brylcream is the solution to all our problems.

6. We don't try looking like prison inmates.

7. We dont think bald is cool.

8. We wash our hair more than once a month.

Of course, there our some exceptions to that last rule in the race of men. The ones who love green apple shampoo and loreal conditioner. But then, you, my friend, have much more to worry about than just fashion.

I thought, therefore...

Not just black and white. So many shades of grey.

I was talking to someone who I spent most of my childhood with. We drifted apart in what were probably our most defining years, and when I look at us now, it seems almost impossible that we started out from the same place.

I’ve been through a constant process of assimilation, discarding, defending. I know she has too. It is simply that we took different turns. At a lot of points apparently.

That’s not a bad thing. Or good. It is just different. Just that.

It is difficult to walk away from something without classifying it as right or wrong. Good or bad. Black or white. I have a tough time doing that.

And yet, those movies with the good cops, the bad thugs, and that damsel in distress don’t work for us anymore do they? Whatever happened to the traitor? The damsel learning kung fu? The villain winning because he was smarter?

Isn’t that what makes it so much more interesting?

And that is what I want. Plenty of shades of grey in between. And perhaps that streak of red running right through it all. I’m not talking about throwing caution to the wind. But allowing the wind to turn me in different directions, so that I can see all around.

I hope to never come out of that process. I hope to constantly meet people who will shatter my convictions, or turn me in new directions, or strengthen my belief in my own. I don’t ever want to be so blinded by enlightenment, that I lose my ability to grasp any other idea.