"Hey ! Growing your beard out this November?" my friends, ask me in college, parading around in their 5-day stubble.I would laugh and say no ,and then shave for a second time that day.People assume that I can't grow a beard, or that I am not man enough to do it; which might be partially true.But I have something more personal for a reason.It's fear.
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Bharath anna (elder brother) was the eldest of all the cousins in the family.Being the eldest and also the brightest ,he had always been the yardstick of my life's progress in my parent's eyes. "Bharath got a job in Amazon.","Bharath got admitted in the NIT" ,"Bharath scored a cent percent in Math." "Bharath goes to the market with his dad.", "Bharath's room is so tidy", "Bharat's handwriting is so neat.", "Bharath was taller at 15", "Bharath's face looks so full....his feet are so so clean... his cupboard's systematic...his breathing's so rythmatic." were few of the things I would hear around in the family growing up, nursing my fractured ego with jealousy.
So, when I was sent to Hyderabad to study intermediate and get a seat in a respected institute , I lived at Pedananna's (father's brother) house and shared a room with anna; so that his brilliance would rub on to me like it were conjunctivitis.
In the beginning he would mind his own, being the golden boy of the family, going to work for his high paying job, study for his GMATs to leave for the US, help around in the house ,and do other 'Golden Boy' stuff, only occasionally taking time to bother me with his war stories of slaying the toughest entrance exams in the country.
But it all began when he went to the trips to the hills with his new colleagues.He didn't get to shave for a couple of days while trekking. 'The stubble looks good on you' they had said ."It does" I said, casually looking back at him through the mirror he had been in front for an hour that day; a sight which would soon become a routine in the house.He loved having those grains of black on his jaw.On days when Pedananna forced him to shave it off, he would look devastated with his fruit like bald face.
But with every passing day, the beard would call out to him, like the dark side calling out to a young Anakin . The silky, black 'jaw fur' called his name in husky voices whenever he looked into the mirror. Before the elder folk at home could read the signs, he was already sporting a black patch on his face.
When questioned he would lie. "It's just a 'mokku'." He would say , resorting to god to avoid shaving.But only I knew the beard had become a fancy ,a passion ,an obsession . It took another month, and another thick inch for the beard to completely assume control over him. He would spend hours looking into the mirror and other reflective surfaces, combing his manly mandible mane.The selfie cam on his phone drained most of the battery.He would spend a fortune on products like shampoos , scented beard oils, conditioners, shaping wax ,combs,brushes,trimmers, and razors.
To be fair, the beard shaped out to look amazing.It shone in the sun and glistened in the rain and swayed gently with the wind.Kids took turns to play with it at parties.Ladies stared at in admiration. Bharath anna grew more proud and more obsessed.It took a toll on him.He was not around to help anymore.He never tried to please his disapproving boss .His study hours included staring at the walls, or talking to girls over the phone while stroking his beard .
