Men generally start going bald when they cross fifty years due to a variety of factors associated with age; heredity, hormonal changes and a host of other reasons. Baldness is often associated with aging, sexuality, wisdom and so on. Any change in other body parts does not bother the male gentry as much as losing hair. There are no tears shed for losing or gaining weight, developing a tan and other such minor calamities. Hair loss is personal, often leading to change of identity with significant visual and psychological impacts.

In a lighter vein I am reminded of a saying, “If a man is bald at the front, he is a thinker. If he is bald at the back, he is sexy. If he is bald both at the front and back – he thinks he is sexy.”

The vast majority of men who go bald, do so, because of a hereditary condition known as Androgenic (male hormones like testosterone) Alopecia (hair loss or baldness). I too fell prey to this midlife phenomenon. I vividly remember my neighbour’s young kids calling me

“Taklu” for one and all to hear- quite a hair-raising moment (i.e. if I had any!) 

When my grandson turned four he became extremely inquisitive as all children do. Among the other things which aroused his curiosity, he also wanted to know where all my hair had gone. After much thought I told him, “When I was young, I would not listen to my mother and would often skip taking a bath for many days at a time. After a few days all my hair got dirty and knotted up. My neighbourhood crow ‘Kalia’ saw this and was fascinated. He was a very intelligent bird and immediately saw a use for my hair. One day when I was in the garden, the crow came stealthily, plucked all my hair and used it to make a nest.”   Well, the story sounded convincing and my grandson believed the ‘hairy tale.’   

Life on a warship is totally different from life ashore. On a ship we live in very confined spaces with very little privacy. Under these circumstances it’s exceedingly difficult to hide a secret. Sinha was a young officer on board our ship. He was tall, well-built and handsome. These attributes helped him project a ‘tough young man’ look. Secretly and unknown to others, he harboured a very grave and deadly secret. He was totally bald. He had gone to extraordinary lengths to hide this life threatening deficiency. Secretly, he had purchased a wig from the market which had become his most coveted possession. He was very careful while bathing and sleeping. Sharing a cabin with him was another young and diminutive officer called Rao. Pocket-sized Rao and Sinha the giant made an odd couple. They knew each other well over a long period of time. Their relationship had many ups and downs, mostly downs for Rao. Giant Sinha, ever so often, would resort to bullying young Rao. Over time, Rao was running out of patience and could not take this humiliation any longer. That is when he decided to expose Sinha in front of the entire ship’s crew.

One Monday morning the entire ship’s crew had been ordered to muster for an inspection by the captain of the ship. Early in the morning Rao had been brutally subjected to yet another round of harsh treatment by Sinha.

As the inspection commenced and the band began to play martial music, in front of the entire ship, Rao did the unthinkable. In one courageous move, he leapt into the air, grabbed Sinha’s wig and ran around the entire deck shouting, “This is Sinha’s wig! He is bald! He is totally Taklu!” 

Mamic was my shipmate, sharing all the trials and tribulations of a demanding ships life alongside me. The ship was mostly at sea, giving us very little time ashore to enjoy the bounties of vibrant Mumbai city. Whenever the ship dropped her anchor, Mamic was the first to catch a boat ashore. He had very good reason to scramble ashore. He was fervently seeking the affection of a lovely young maiden known to him through a mutual friend. In any such endeavour of the heart, Cupid plays a major role in deciding the outcome. However, there was one issue which was unfortunately out of Cupid’s control.

Remaining at sea over extended periods of time had often exposed Mamic to salty sea spray. He was not certain whether it was the sea salt or heredity or both which had caused him to be a deep thinker at a very young age. Being in Mumbai was of great advantage to him. Mumbai has a history of wig making, particularly tied to the Bollywood film industry, with some businesses operating for decades. One fateful evening. Mamic mustered all his courage and visited ‘Rajkamal Wigs ‘N Hair’ one of the oldest established wig makers, operating since 1936. He emerged from the wig shop, an entirely different person, full of confidence and flair. I am sure this transformation had a very positive impact on the damsel in question.

Life on board continued as usual and I started to notice that Mamic appeared to be very cheerful, festive, and happy. Until the day I saw him sitting in the wardroom all alone, sipping a sun downer. He was not his usual buoyant and lively self. After careful prodding and coaxing, Mamic narrated the events which had led him to this pitiful state. In complete confidence and after extracting a promise of secrecy he said, ‘Pubs, I had a terrible dream last night! My wig had lost all its hair and turned bald! I am certain this is a signal of impending doom.’ I had no words of consolation to offer at the ‘falling out’ of his wig.

On the other hand, Kunju from Kerala, was a totally different personality. There is a popular folklore which claims that Malyali men generally do not bald and are blessed with luxuriously thick hair. But young Kunju was an exception. This bachelor was also keen on displaying an outwardly agreeable appearance to all and sundry, especially to the fairer sex. On our way back from Riga, our ship made a brief halt in Gdansk, Poland. The Polish economy was badly down and a dollar could fetch a bag full of Zloty. Under these favourable exchange conditions, shopping became very attractive. Kunju wasted no time and proceeded to the local market and bought himself the most expensive natural looking wig available, made totally out of human hair.

Unlike the other two hair challenged persons that I have mentioned, Kunju didn’t care a damn what people thought of his baldness. I still remember an incident when we attended an official dinner at a diplomat’s residence. He was there all suited and booted with his wonderful wig adding to his debonair demeanour. At some point during the party, Kunju visited the restroom and emerged without his wig. Nobody said anything, but even if they had, he wouldn’t have turned a hair! After our return to Mumbai, India, the wig continued to adorn his head albeit at his own whims and fancies. 

During this hairy period my dear parents came and stayed with us. Incidentally my father was also afflicted with the same deficiency as dear Kunju. One evening Kunju happened to visit our house wearing his precious wig. My father did not notice anything unusual in Kunju’s appearance. The evening proceeded in a normal fashion until Kunju decided to remove his wig. My father was not only astonished but curious. One thing led to another and my father ended up wearing the wig. Here again the wig transformed my father appearance to a great extent and he was impressed. Kunju graciously left behind for my father to use.

What actually unfolded during the next few days is not very clear. The wig went back to the ship and returned to our house once again or remained in the ship could not be determined with any degree of accuracy. A month or so later the wig disappeared from the ship. Kunju was unable to come to terms with the loss of this treasured possession. Kunju secretly made a list of all the suspects who could have laid their hands on the wig. I came to know much later that my fathers name prominently figured in the list. After many moons had passed Kunju finally declared that it was Mr ‘Anson’ our civilian bearer of the ship who had stolen it along with many other items.

So, what is a guy going bald supposed to do? Comb all his hair forward so that it covers his bald patch in front. Or wear a wig, fearful that someone may discover your terrible secret at any minute. Or even grow your locks at the back and make a cute ponytail for everyone to admire. Which is exactly what I have done.

All I know is, ‘once you go bald, you never grow back’.

I thus respectfully, conclude my ‘Hairy Tales’.