Covering the Head

I was sitting in a corner, involuntarily hiccupping, all by myself. Suddenly, Shri Husband barked: “Qui-et!” He believes that if you startle a person, hiccups stop. My statistical personal records kept over the years prove they don’t. I tried really hard to shut up, to control myself, but Nature always wins. I was helpless. Shri Husband was helpless… and fuming at the periodical squeaks escaping my throat. To get rid of the mutual helplessness, we decided to go outside to watch birds. Clouds-and-Rain 2016 were already a memory and the flying and crawling insects were exposed, to be eaten by the winged predators. I wore a cap. Big mistake. If my getting hiccups is bad for Shri Husband’s nerves, my wearing any sort of headgear messes with his entire irritation system. At the first hiccup post exiting door, the cap fell down. There’s something wrong with my head. No cap sits on it firmly. On came the scowl on you-know-who’s face. So I quickly returned indoors and discarded the cap for a thin muslin dupatta. Bigger mistake. The dupatta got entangled in the door handle. After I undid it, it got stuck in the spoke of an umbrella that came in my way. That was the umbrella I’d forgotten to put away in spite of being told several times. Panic set in, and the hiccups got louder and more frequent. The scowl got bigger. We abandoned the bird-watching trip and sat down to discuss the role headgear has played in my life. It took our minds off The Goan Murders of the Week and BRICS. Born and raised on the west coast, I hadn’t seen heads being covered except in Hindi films (surreptitiously seen on DD in friends’ homes as they were a big no-no in my home); and diagrams of Indians from other states in Social Science textbooks. My grandparents, parents, family-doctor’s clan, neighbours, classmates, siblings all exposed their skulls to the sky/ceiling. So the first time I went to a temple in north India, I had a problem. My padar wouldn’t stay on my head and covering it was compulsory. An acquaintance kindly lent me some clips and pins and I got by. Later I was taught to tie knots at the four corners of a handkerchief to make it into a temporary cap that didn’t fall off. No one else had a problem, mine (hanky-cap, not problem) kept slipping off my head. Told you already, something’s wrong with my head. On subsequent visits to other holy places and homes where elders were present, when I had to cover my head, I felt like I was a part of a Pakeezah set, like Madhubala, very coy, very royal. Why covering of heads (especially for women) in the presence of elders is considered respectful I don’t know, but I follow the When in Rome rule. Apparently, in 1 Corinthians 11:11 it was/is written: …women "ought to have a symbol of authority on her head" so even today, in some cultures, many Christian women still wear head/hair coverings to show their devotion to their husbands and as a symbol of modesty. Amongst conservative elderly Parsis, both genders cover their heads. It’s ok with these folk to show the face. In the Middle-East, men wear the keffiyeh; in years gone by it may have been to keep out heat and sand, today it keeps the ears warm from over-cool central air-conditioning, and the designs/colours let you know who’s boss, who’s not. Fashion statement and social distinction more than sanitary requirements is what governs headgear these days. Why religions give it a stamp of approval, I don’t know either. Muslim women have a range of names for head-covers: burqa, chador, niqab and the Arabic hijab. At Dubai airport, I saw women-clerks wearing a V-shaped thing on their noses. Looked like a clip-on, but obviously wasn’t. It was attached to the head-scarf in some way. These accessories make me curious and I stare. If men did the same, they’d get into trouble. Until the Renaissance, some form of cover for the hair was regarded as appropriate for married women in most European cultures. Remember the ‘matron’s cap’? Unmarried women could display their hair to attract suitors. The social elite, especially royalty, generally did not feel bound by these customs, unless they were widows. Inside an RC church, until the 1960s, required all women to wear at least a veil (or a silk/lace mantilla) over their hair. Today, that happens only if a woman is formally meeting the Pope. Men can go bareheaded. Discrimination! Not fair, I thought, but said nothing. The hiccups were still on. “Wimple, hennin, circlet, kerchief, gable-hood, mob-caps, bonnets... so different they are from the ghungtaa, no?” I said to Shri Husband. He replied: “The ghungtaa is more than a head-cover, it’s a concept.” I chose to ignore anything that might lead to a side-argument. The hiccups hadn’t stopped. I read from Google: “Jew women wear tichels or snoods.” I uttered small sentences, between hiccups. “Wigs are also headgear, no?” Shri Husband: “Yes.” Me: “Berets, hats and golf-caps have been in-style for many years if you’re part of a certain social strata.” Now he was distracted and the mood was getting less edgy. “Our topis and turbans are so elegant,” I said. “Pity they’re worn only at weddings.” “What’s in fashion is women covering everything above their necks with dupattas wound around their heads,” Shri Husband suddenly remarked, going at a tangent. “Protects their skin from sun, wind and polluting fumes,” I said. “How about helmets to protect their brains from accidental injuries? How come they’re not in fashion?” “Some of them carry…” I couldn’t complete my sentence. Shri Husband had got into the lecture-baazi mode. “Are helmets to be carried in a dicky or lap or kept near the feet? Or buckled around the wrist or to the handle of the scooter?” I was going to answer… when I realized, my hiccups had stopped. Shri Husband? Still scowling. Feedback: sheelajaywant@yahoo.co.in