Script for a shampoo ad…just random
I got up early this morning, after a troubled sleep. Anxiety and nerves wouldn’t let me stay in bed, yesterday had not been the best day and an important client presentation was waiting to be made today. I get up and have breakfast, wash my hair and leave for work. It is cold outside, I hire a cab. On most mornings, I prefer walking, sometimes against the chilly winds and sometimes against the sun, I walk. I don’t hide in the shade or run for the comfort of a cab. I like to feel my hair flying with the wind, strong and averse to tangling. It fills me with a feeling of independence and freedom, giving me a strange sort of energy. Today however, I feel resigned. I sit back in my seat and open the window slightly.
While I sit there gazing at the passersby, I happen to see a little girl in a frock, with two pony tails dangling behind her. She puts a smile on my face and also takes me back to that time long ago when I too was a little girl.
As a kid who grew up in a small household in Andhra Pradesh, I remember my humble beginnings. I might not have been an achiever, but I was always someone who tried hard and took great pride in it. I remember my journey; it was difficult being typecast as a girl. Within me, I felt like a lion, ready to leap, to run, to break free and to take on the world. I wanted to be like the wind, strong and unscathed, but I was also my father’s daughter, his little princess and quite naturally he wanted me to be the quintessential girl, his sweet, homely girl. As this little girl, my problems were plenty. I wanted to shout out loud when frustrated, I wanted to kick my brother when he teased me. I so wanted to dance in the rain, to whistle in a movie theatre, to sleep till late on weekends, to let my hair loose and let it fall over my face and all this without the pressure of being judged. These were little things, yes; but they affected my pride and attempted to tame the lion residing inside me.
Sometimes I would sit alone for hours and wonder. It was, at times like these that it would come, while I sat unsuspecting; the wind, wafting through my hair, brushing gently across my face. It was a lovely feeling; my hair felt soft against my face, it was light enough to be caressed but strong enough to withhold the wind, to stand against it. The wind could blow my hair away, but it couldn’t damage it. Inspirations can come from small, shady corners they say, mine had come.
I remember going to school after revelations like these. I would take my little self on a voyage, ignoring the stones and navigating through the puddles, I would march on. I am the chosen one, I would tell myself, I am Mark Anthony and Alexander the great, I can change the course of the world, I am also Shivaji and Rani Laxmi Bai, I am a warrior in this battlefield, I am the lead actor in this drama, in this movie being pictured around me. I was special, I was convinced.
Yes, inspirations come from nowhere and at times when you need them the most. The wind through the window is caressing my hair again, asking me to continue on my voyage, unflinchingly I follow suit. I ask the driver to pull over and I take the much needed walk. As the wind works its way through my hair, I feel the lion inside me roaring again and my dad’s little daughter holding fort, ready to unleash the beast within.
