​​​Ma is also at war. Her tormentor is her age. The raging​ battle is between her body and mind which is slowly destroying ​t​he beautiful person​ she is. ​H​er suffering nudges her to a make-believe world where agitation reigns a serene soul. 

जैसी अग्नि उदर में, तैसी बा॒हर माया, माया अगन दुई एक भए, करते खेल रचाया

Ma was most unhappy yesterday. She resisted, shouted, pushed and cursed us. She couldn’t fathom why four people were surrounding her, or why someone was holding her neck down while two hands ran a trimmer from her nape to the pate and scalp tickling her no end. She had to be held and comforted by four people for the fear of the scissor or the trimmer hurting her. We felt bad but there was no way out.

It was like a city of lice living in her hair. All because of one careless attendant who passed it on to Ma–the girl herself was unhygienic and hid it from us. We realised it only when Ma started increasingly scratching her head, neck, and the ear. A fine comb run through her hair brought out the lice and the nits. Scared to risk anything else our last resort was to shave her head, but it had to stop a little short of bald head – to a Crew Cut. In her state of dementia she found the exercise an assault. “Maar do” was her constant refrain as she pushed forward and back, barely sitting on the wheelchair. Sorry Ma, it had to be done.

Head shaving, or tonsuring, I am told is a symbolic act of purification and spiritual transformation. Offering hair, on your own, is also considered shedding of ego and worldly attachments. In her new haircut, Ma looks cute, doesn’t she!!!