Day 105: Thus the Head was Shaved!

Today, a head was shaved... not mine (am not that adventurous yet), but the little' one's! 

It's a very common practice in India to shave the heads of babies. The belief is that with this, the baby hair will be removed once and for all, to be replaced with better, stronger, blacker hair. Now this event, that of getting the baby's head shaved, usually doesn't mean just taking a walk up to the salon and getting it snipped. It is a “ceremony”. In Kerala, where I come from, it means travelling hundreds of kilometers  and going to one of those big temples like Thirupathi or Pazhani that specializes in head-shaving ceremonies. In Kanpur, where the hubby comes from, this means having a big function, with friends and neighbours pouring in, a feast organized and the ceremony performed at home. In other words, in both worlds, it’s pretty much a big deal and requires weeks, if not months, of planning.

In our case, the planning lasted for about 15 minutes this morning. It all started with a conversation with the hubby, over chat, when both of us were in our respective offices. It started with a mere “We gotta do mundan (the Hindi word for the head shaving)” to “We might as well do it sooner than later” to “ We might as well do it today because parents (i.e. my mom and the hubby’s dad) are in town”. That’s it. Before we really even realized it ourselves, the local temple authorities were informed, the barber was booked, the parents were informed, the little one was ready and we were on our way to the temple, the venue of the mundan.

After a short puja (prayer) led by the priest, the barber started to shave off the little one’s head. She was seated on the hubby’s lap, who in turn clung to her with all his might, making sure she kept still. It’s no fun watching a blade on the head of your child and both of us were nervous. I hid my nervousness behind my camera, clicking pictures incessantly.

The barber did the shaving in three phases, with short breaks in between. The little one kept still, seemingly enjoying the process in the first phase but wailed her lungs out during the second and third phases. But everytime there was a break, she would switch to her wide mouthed, toothless grin, as if she is oblivious of what just happened and in turn making me feel a lot less nervous.  

Within minutes, those tiny little strands, even the ones that she used pull with all her might in her waves of anger, were all gone. (Yes, the girl has a temper and during fits of rage, she used to love pulling her own hair from the back of her head).

As I later (very funnily) proclaimed on Facebook, “Eka became Egg-a”!

Post the mundan ceremony,  all of us, including my brother and sister-in-law as well as her brother who had all arrived by then, went to Kailas Parbat for “post-mudan party” as the hubby called it. There we stuffed ourselves with a variety of chaat topped with a serving of their lovely cutting chai, while the little one figured that she can no longer pull her own hair. As she grasped for a handful of hair, all she got was air, bringing a priceless look of confusion on her face.

Thus the Mundan came to an end. Quickly, Happily, Beautifully!