How Sunsilk Recharged My Confidence

This post is a part of the All New Sunsilk Natural Recharge contest organized by Sunsilk in association with Indiblogger.


I am no Rapunzel. I don’t need to be. My Prince Charming can carry his royal posterior up the stairs. Okay, maybe the first sentence was an understatement (or is it overstatement?). What I meant was, I don’t have the kind of thick, lustrous, cascading hair that would inspire a young man to grab a quill and dash off a few verses. I would anyway much rather have a poem written about my intelligence and my inner beauty and my …

Okay, okay, I will say it. My hair is terrible. My life is one endless Bad Hair Day. I hate my hair. Happy now? Boo-hoo.

There has probably been only one time in my life when my hair couldn’t trouble me – when I was two and my mother got my head shaved. Just as the only kind of troubleshooting I am capable of is restarting my laptop/ mobile phone when I don’t understand its behavior, my mother too could think of only this way of trying to make my hair come out all gorgeous. If I had a penny for every good-intentioned action that backfired in the world, I would beat Zuckerberg in buying WhatsApp. With Pinterest thrown in.

The only long-term effect of that has been a few blank pages in the Sweet Memories album between my first and third birthdays and some telltale traces of paper from where the photos were ripped off. There was only so much I could tolerate of “Who is this little ‘boy’ with the dome-shaped head?” questions accompanied by blood-boiling smirks.

For as long as I can remember, my hair has been the biggest source of stress in my life (even before deadlines and bosses etc. were invented). While the word ‘party’ normally triggers off the reaction “What will I wear?” in people, my brain screams out “How will my hair look on that day?” I say ‘that day’ because my hair has a mind of its own. Its behavior is like a rebellious hormonal mood-swing-prone teenager experimenting with horrendous clothes. And I am like its mother, who babbles “You are wearing WHAT?” through a slack, awkwardly-hanging jaw every time the teenager in question is on the way out.

Following are the broad categories that I can usually fit my hair’s mood into on an average day:

  • Hmmm
  • Not again!
  • Grab a few attractive clips
  • Grab a bandana
  • Cancel plans of going out
  • Die

I can’t even afford the satisfaction of tearing off my hair is despair, because I don’t have much surplus of it, and even without my help, it’s doing a great job of coming off in clumps. I adopted the out-of-bed, uncombed look long before it hit the fashion mags, purely out of the apprehension of seeing more hair on my comb than on my head after each comb. I know winter is here when I look like I was in the way of a white confetti accident. I can never enjoy the rains because in monsoon, my hair’s behavior is like that of a government clerk. It would just lie there, shapeless, limp, and no amount of poking can make it bounce. And summers. I don’t want to talk about my hair in summer. The only person I have told is my psychiatrist.

To sum up, my hair is like my mother-in-law. Nothing that I do for it is good enough. And always in a bad mood. There was nothing for me to do other than surrendering to the inevitable, except for writing stupid poems such as the following:

O hair, o hair, why are you so frizzy?

Do you really have to be a nuisance; why do you act so crazy?

Oil and shampoo and eggs and curd, spa and this and that,

This is what you give in return, you ungrateful little brat!

Why can’t you sway with the breeze, and dance when I jog,

Why can’t you glitter and gleam like that woman’s hair in Vogue?

Why can’t you curl up like silken ribbons, wave like a gentle stream?

Why can’t you flip oh-so-coolly, or straighten up like a dream?

But that’s what I thought. I mean, the nothing to do part.

I will admit it, my choice of shampoo is sometimes (okay, often) influenced by free goodies are thrown in. Before you jump to any unfair conclusion, let me assure you that this gift-induced behavior is not responsible for turning my hair into a mess. It’s actually the other way round. When I realized that all the pampering was turning my hair into a brat, I decided to give it the tough love treatment.

So the Indiblogger Sunsilk Free Sample offer was just the thing for me. I used The Sunsilk Recharge Shampoo because I had to shampoo my hair with something. Without any expectation. Because the Conditioner looked nice, I dabbed some of it also (which is a step I usually skip).

When I woke up from my nap, my hair was tousled from not combing. Nothing new about that. I ran my fingers through it sleepily, and my fingers ran right through my hair, without getting caught in tangles! Something definitely new about that! For a while, I thought I was still sleeping. But I could actually sort my entire head of hair by running my fingers through it, with only a few strands coming off. And when I brushed my hair after that, it felt smooth. That’s one adjective I never dreamed I could use in the same sentence as ‘my hair.’

I have been using it every alternate day since then. No, my hair still doesn’t look anything like the model’s (Duh! Surprise!). And the problems didn’t wash off all at once. But considering where I started off, the improvement is massive. So much so, that I could add another point to my ‘Condition of Hair’ list:


  • Not bad!
  • Hmmm
  • Not again!
  • Grab a few attractive clips
  • Grab a bandana
  • Cancel plans of going out
  • Die

And very soon, the day of my cousin’s wedding, I got proof that I wasn’t exactly hallucinating. I was at the parlor, and had asked the hairdresser to make my hair into a nice bun to go with my sari. The hairdresser immediately put forward a series of well-meaning suggestions about what I could do to improve my hair’s volume, texture, blah blah. By this time, I had heard the same things so many times, I could have finished her sentences and saved her breath, but I didn’t want to be rude. I had almost tuned her out, but then she said something that made me almost snap out of my chair:

…but your hair is very soft and smooth, and very easy to style…


Before I got my breath back, she went on … Why don’t you leave it open? It would look great with long curls.

I mutely nodded. I was too shocked to speak. So far, everybody had always politely suggested ways of hiding my hair.

I felt more beautiful than the bride that day. And I couldn’t help touching my hair every now and then, to make sure the magic hadn’t disappeared. And thanks to my recharged hair, my confidence was recharged, and my smile too. Like the model’s.


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