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The first choti I saw was on the head of my granpa...it was truly a pigtail. And he was not tying it but just left it to float in the air. As chotis go it was a sham of an excuse...the rest of his head was tonsured periodically. And it was such a small wisp that he could at best beckon a dozen or less demonesses all of whom my grannie would have swallowed whole, and if needed their owner too.
The next one was on the head of my Shakespeare Uncle. He was caught between the British culture and Indian but he managed to harmonize them both in his dress and hairstyle. He wore a khadi bandhgala coat. But over a white cotton dhoti. He wore a hint of kumkum on his forehead but so faint that it couldn't be seen easily like Alices' White Knight:
And he had a regular crop of hair which his Royal Barber used to 'dress' fortnightly at his home. But he made amends by leaving a tuft of hair that was tied up so tight that only his barber could see its presence...it mixed with the rest of his crop so well like Ganga with Sagar.
Next it was my own turn to flaunt a dogtail:
I never agreed to have my head tonsured clean till the day of my father's death. That evening I thought I should humor my mom since after all she knew him longer ;)
So, after returning from the Cremation Ground I asked her what I should do to please her. She asked me to go to the barber shop and have my head tonsured leaving a choti at the back. The barber appeared to know his job well and did his best. I was supposed to keep it till the 13th day Feast and go to the barber again and get it shaved off too.
I said ok. My youngest niece who was about 3 years old was staying with us then and she found a wonderful job which her didi did to her daily...making a braid of her hair. She used to come and stand behind me stealthily while I was sitting and reading and braid my tuft and unbraid it and braid it again in what she called the Japanese style and then Chinese style...to her heart's content...the kid is now a Ph D from Delaware.
The latest choti I saw was yesterday on the Commander-in-Chief of the Telugu Purohits in Hyderabad. My son was asked to approach him to finalize the rest of the last rites of his mom. In my last blog I described how my son got trapped leg and middle by the Traffic Police in Khairatabad while trying to tail this gentleman who constantly shifted base from Tank Bund to NTR Gardens to Necklace Road (spelt Neckless Road on hoardings).
When we finally caught up with him, the C-in-C had just parked his Mahindra Bolero and was waiting for us with all his blinkers on.
A look at him and his Bolero was enough to conclude like Watson that here is a Purohit who is Minister-Grade.
And he was dressed like my Shakespeare Uncle in an outfit that is neither too British nor too Indian but a synthesized alloy of the two. And his face had a quiet make-up on a silky foundation. His brows were trimmed. And he had a moochh like any Telugu Movie hero. And he had a crop that was obviously done and redone every week. And it was playing hide and seek with a choti that could be raised and flaunted as and when needed.
The Ultimate Minister's minister...
...Posted by Ishani
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There is this story from Bhagavatam where the irascible sage Durvasa gets so wild at King Amabarish for not waiting for him to eat that he plucks a hair from his choti and transforms it into a demoness...just imagine what would have happened had he plucked all his hairs in a tantrum.
And our History Teacher in school told us that Chanakya (Kautilya) took a vow that he would never tie his choti knot till the Nanda Kings who insulted him were all defeated and dethroned.
The next one was on the head of my Shakespeare Uncle. He was caught between the British culture and Indian but he managed to harmonize them both in his dress and hairstyle. He wore a khadi bandhgala coat. But over a white cotton dhoti. He wore a hint of kumkum on his forehead but so faint that it couldn't be seen easily like Alices' White Knight:
- But I was thinking of a plan
- To dye one's whiskers green,
- And always use so large a fan
- That they could not be seen.
Next it was my own turn to flaunt a dogtail:
So, after returning from the Cremation Ground I asked her what I should do to please her. She asked me to go to the barber shop and have my head tonsured leaving a choti at the back. The barber appeared to know his job well and did his best. I was supposed to keep it till the 13th day Feast and go to the barber again and get it shaved off too.
I said ok. My youngest niece who was about 3 years old was staying with us then and she found a wonderful job which her didi did to her daily...making a braid of her hair. She used to come and stand behind me stealthily while I was sitting and reading and braid my tuft and unbraid it and braid it again in what she called the Japanese style and then Chinese style...to her heart's content...the kid is now a Ph D from Delaware.
The latest choti I saw was yesterday on the Commander-in-Chief of the Telugu Purohits in Hyderabad. My son was asked to approach him to finalize the rest of the last rites of his mom. In my last blog I described how my son got trapped leg and middle by the Traffic Police in Khairatabad while trying to tail this gentleman who constantly shifted base from Tank Bund to NTR Gardens to Necklace Road (spelt Neckless Road on hoardings).
When we finally caught up with him, the C-in-C had just parked his Mahindra Bolero and was waiting for us with all his blinkers on.
A look at him and his Bolero was enough to conclude like Watson that here is a Purohit who is Minister-Grade.
And he was dressed like my Shakespeare Uncle in an outfit that is neither too British nor too Indian but a synthesized alloy of the two. And his face had a quiet make-up on a silky foundation. His brows were trimmed. And he had a moochh like any Telugu Movie hero. And he had a crop that was obviously done and redone every week. And it was playing hide and seek with a choti that could be raised and flaunted as and when needed.
The Ultimate Minister's minister...
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