Timeless secrets to gorgeous hair. Rediscovered.

Timeless secrets to gorgeous hair. Rediscovered.

The Ice Breaker

She picked up her book, pretending to read it. There was an awkward silence hanging uncomfortably in the air.

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By the Hairsutras Team

Anybody who has ever had to stay at a hostel will know the importance of having a good roommate. For the time you stay together, you’ve both got to make many adjustments to your lives. In the final year of my degree, Anusha Sridhar, a fresher, entered my life.

On the first day, I’d invited her to join me for lunch at the mess. The two of us sat at a table in the corner. But she seemed rather disinterested in conversation, choosing to stare at the menu board instead. God! Wasn’t I stuck with a snob?

The next day, I’d even made a bet with my classmates about her being a loner on weekends.

After my lectures on Saturday, I went to the room, almost sure that I’d won the bet. Nothing better than free beer on a Saturday night, right?

But as I opened the door, I saw Anusha was weeping over the phone.

Another girl with a heartbreak, I thought to myself. But then I overheard the conversation. Anusha was crying to her mother.

And almost instantly, it reminded me of my first few days away from home. It had been difficult for me as well. Unnoticed, I shut the door behind me and entered the room.

Anusha hung up, but her eyes were still moist. Sensing my presence, she quickly wiped her tears and picked up her book, pretending to read it.

There was an awkward silence hanging uncomfortably in the air. I cleared my throat.

“So Ms. Sridhar, what is your story?”

She gave a faint smile, still lost in her own world.

“You should’ve come for the weekly movie screening today. Got any favourites?”

She still didn’t seem interested.

“See, for example, there are some movies that I really appreciate, like a Spielberg film,. But any film works for me, as long as I have a good time.”

At this point Anusha sighed, as if she was resisting my friendliness.

I looked around the room for some inspiration. The bottle of coconut oil on my dresser caught my eye. It reminded me of my mother, of Sundays spent being pampered by her caressing touch, and I suddenly longed for that feeling. Looking at Anusha, I knew how she felt.

I wanted to do something to comfort her. Impulsively, I grabbed the bottle.

Pouring some oil on my palms, I rubbed them together. I looked towards her hesitatingly and wondered if this was going to work. But I had come too far to back down.

‘Er..you know what usually works for me when I’m homesick?’

Anusha looked up, her eyes widening.

I raised my eyebrows, questioningly. She looked at the oil in my palms and paused for a second before shrugging her shoulders. Shegave in and said, ‘Well, you can’t put the oil back in the bottle!’,.

She sat in front of me while I laughed, taken aback by her forthcoming response. I tried to recollect my Mother’s massage techniques while I smeared the oil into her scalp.

Anusha began to open up slowly “Do they have a screening each week?”

 “Yes, they do! Plus you get to meet guys from all the batches.”

She surprised me with a smile I didn’t know she had.

“Which book were you reading?”, I continued, worried that the conversation would die out.

“Equal Music by Vikram Seth”

“I prefer movies. I can’t just sit in one place with a book.”

“You know, I used to feel the same way when I started reading. But now, the words just disappear and I can actually see the scene unfold in front of me.”

“Wow. Maybe I’ll borrow the one you’re reading.”

Anusha flashed that rare smile at me again and nodded, her eyes closing.

And as I ran my fingers gently across her tresses, I got to know Anusha better. We got lost in a cocktail of conversation about likes, dislikes and memories.

That was the start of a year long bond.

Even now, though it’s been 6 months since I graduated, Anusha comes over during summer break. We still can’t figure out how to put the oil back in the bottle.

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