Yes, there were 101 pins in my hair bun when I became a bride. Neither my husband nor I liked the idea, for obvious reasons. Neither was it a ritual in the family nor were we suggested by the priest to use these pins for a happy married life. It was not a superstition. In fact, superstitions are good. As I explain in this piece, the story is slightly more twisted. 

I got engaged in January 2013 and married in January 2014. We decided to take a year because I was in the third year of my PhD and wanted to complete my thesis writing before the wedding. Basically, one thing at a time was the plan! It was a strange year. I was working very hard, but I was also loaded with advice for pre-wedding preparations. Apart from buying things, I was advised to buy homemade face packs, hair removal creams, hair regrowth oils, and even special toothpaste to look perfect on my 'big' day. One of the main issues was hair. Here is why.

I have always had short hair - quite short, like Princess Diana (no, I am not that pretty), Kiran Bedi (no comments), and Falguni Pathak (yes, I know, very funny). When I was 10 years old, my mother took me to a barber at a male saloon for a 10 rupees haircut, and the guy accidentally cut my hair too short. Since then, I have had almost the same hairstyle. My parents told me that it looked good and I was an obedient child. Eventually, it became a habit. I hate changes and the anxiousness they bring along. So I stuck! But what is the big deal? What happens when a girl cuts her hair short in India?

I was always known as the boy-cut girl in my school and college. From the watchmen to the teachers, everyone recognized me. My hair became my identity. I felt I looked funny in ethnic wear and so I mostly wore jeans or trousers with shirts. People would ask my mother if I was a boy or a girl in social gatherings. It was amusing for them; I hated it enormously. In addition, Bollywood in the 1990s was horrendous. I was extremely disappointed at not being able to find any leading female actor with short hair. Even male actors like Sanjay Dutt and Salman Khan had longer hair than I did. Gul Panag and Mandira Bedi came at a later stage. Many people have told me that I look like Mandira Bedi. I don't; it's just the hair. To date, professionally and personally, many people recognize me for my hairstyle.

To top it all, throughout my teenage years, I was asked one question quite often. How will you dress up as a bride? An Indian bride is supposed to have long hair tied into a bun to cover it with a dupatta (a piece of cloth) for the perfect look. It was a grave issue in my teenage life, more important than my bridegroom or career choice. After all, Kuchh Kuchh Hota Hai tormented our generation by establishing that love happens only once, and marriage, at the most, can happen twice! So, the wedding was supposed to be the most critical event in one's life, and my Punjabi background added fuel to the fire.

In one full year leading up to my wedding, I constantly received advice about my hair. My friends suggested growing them long. I tried for four months and gave it up because I could not bear the change. So, back to square one! Then, I began the search for a talented hairstylist in the small town of Roorkee who could create the perfect bun with extremely short hair. It was challenging, but we managed to find one. More importantly, she managed to create a bun that sustained my dupatta over a long waiting time and an overnight wedding ceremony.

I made it, thanks to 101 pins and artificial hair! A laugh riot followed. After the wedding, we spent almost two hours dismantling the bun and collecting the pins and fake hair enough to support the whole cast of any North Indian Ramleela. This is funny, but funnier is the fact that I did not look like myself at my wedding. Instead, I chose to look perfect. My husband asked me, "Why did you do it?" I could not answer. Eventually, I found my answer.

If I get married again, with my same super cute husband, of course, I will choose to look myself. It took me almost 30 years to gain the confidence I have today, accepting and embracing myself the way I am. This is why I love my 30s. This is why I said superstition is good, at least not hypocritical. There are much more severe issues like peer pressure and stereotyping that run deep in our culture. They are mostly invisible to the naked eye. I have earned the vision to see these issues through a journey of vulnerability and self-doubt. My strength is my most precious ornament, and I intend to pass it on to our daughter instead of my sone ke haar (gold jewelry).

To hell with buns, pins, and prejudices because to each her own!

It was first published on Mompresso on October 13, 2021. Link: https://www.momspresso.com/parenting/684f238cd2794e31b9caebff76477121/article/101-pins-and-the-story-of-my-hair-8eao5d5mqs2l