2 years on. Restart.

Never thought I'll be doing this but here I am again-bald. It's a fresh (more cooling than fresh but you get the idea) start to a new term. Honestly, there are many things that have occurred in recent times that I cannot brag about being certain off but all these unprecedented surprises have tickled my soul in an outcry of euphoria.

It feels oddly different to be bald again. I vaguely remember the feeling I got when it happened 2 years back but apart from the abrupt adaptation to the airy space floating above your non-existent hair, it feels different carrying a shaven scalp. Perhaps it's the morphed atmosphere, of the judge and judged, that a simple act of shaving is amplified in its magnitude. People look on with discerning glares, shifty yet decisive in thought-you know what they're thinking because you think the same when you stare in the mirror.

In many ways, we are helpless amidst this suspension of pride and prejudice. Paint a picture, where we are but fragile balloons floating aimlessly in mid-air, desperately seeking to stay afloat. But we're not alone; a game has ensued, of enemies striking at the heart of your soul, bent on ending your game. There is a penchant for everyone to sink your spirits, an incessant and determined actions to deliver blows, so you may touch the ground. and crumble.


And the propensity for the fight lives on each day; in each and every one of us. While we struggle to stay in the game and keep our heads above the waters, we too are delivering our blows are others. It is a vicious cycle born to stay and we can only hope that everyone can remain in the air simultaneously.

Rise.