My hair grows really fast during Spring season. It’s the perfect season to go bald and watch my hair grow back from scratch, if it grows back at all.
Instead, this morning I found me a pink rubber band in the fridge, among the eggs [from DAWN bread]. I tied up my hair with it into an incredibly small tail of a newborn pony. Wouldn’t want pieces of my thinning hair falling all over the place during that important interview, you know.
Have you ever anticipated that moment in your life when the said rubber band you’ve never used before was actually destined for a higher purpose? I never did. I just liked the feel of tool summer breeze against my neck that was free of hair finally.
I arrive at the interview location. Take my camera equipment out with the same beautiful confidence as usual. It’s all set to record. I turn it on and see this flashing on the screen.
“NO MEMORY CARD”
I feel an icy chill run up my spine, and my blood freezes. I let out a nervous laugh pretending that I’m super excited. I smile at the ladies and the gentlemen in the room around me, and converse with their adorable baby, fixated on her struggle with language and innocence. My blood is frozen. The HD camera is useless. Suddenly I’m reaching for the rubber band and take it off in a gesture suggesting I’m really not used to keeping my hair tied. I smile at everyone like a guilty bitch but can’t even yelp. I die and experience an afterlife of a cat.
I unscrew the useless HD camera from the tripod and mount my phone on it. The pink rubber band keeps it in position perfectly. No one utters a word, not even a gasp. I’m gasping for breath and mutter some ‘it’s going to be alright’ song by morons I used to go out with, and almost proposed to marry.
Two hours of recording almost, the deed is done and the phone dies just after the driver confirms he’s waiting to drop me home, outside.
I revert my attention to the co-narrators in a frail attempt to strike an intelligent conversation, and call it a day over a cup of coffee and cake. At the mention of the word Ophthalmologist, I find myself in a raging Taher Shah fever saying: “Oh so you’re an eye to eye doctor?” Everyone in the room is in fits and I’m shocked beyond belief on what’d come out of my mouth. I haven’t even seen or heard Pakistan’s latest YouTube sensation’s new song yet. God! What’s wrong with me?!
The interviewee has now fallen asleep on the seat, mouth open and drooling without a care in the world. What a lucky person. I take this as my cue and start to leave. “We love you,” they tell me. I find the car outside much to my relief.
Thank you, pink rubber band. You are my hero. Now that thing about going bald….if I only had that Mimosa plant..On a brighter note, can’t wait to meet the little scientists.
Copyright Fakhra Hassan 2016. All Rights Reserved.