The Bald Truth is Staring Back in the Mirror

I have some news that will not shock anyone who has been around me the last few years: I’m going bald.

I’ve had a bald spot near the back of my head for more than a decade, but now the hair strands near the front of my head are abandoning me, like rats fleeing a sinking ship. And they’re taking with them any dreams I ever had of working for Air India.

Air India, as you may know, instituted some strict rules on grooming and attire about two years ago. The grooming guidelines included the following instructions for male employees: “Men must maintain a neat short haircut with side parting (without volume). Use of hair gel is mandatory. Male crew with deep receding hairlines and male balding patches must keep a clean shaved head or bald look. The head must be shaved daily. A crew cut is not permitted.”

I wouldn’t qualify for an Air India job anyway, but the idea that a man with a receding hairline or balding patches must shave his head seems downright inhumane to me. This is like telling an employee with one missing finger that he needs to cut off his remaining fingers.

Perhaps that’s not a good analogy. After all, fingers don’t grow back, while hair usually does. But as far as I’m concerned, there’s no guarantee, if I shave my head, that my hair will reappear. What if it doesn’t? Would I be able to sue Air India for enough money to afford a transplant through the doctors at Hair India?

Anyone who tells a balding man that he must go completely bald does not understand how important hair is to the average man’s self-esteem. Some exceptional men like Michael Jordan and Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson have made baldness part of their appeal, but ordinary men like me are somewhat insecure about being follically challenged. Not only do I never shave my head, I try to get a haircut less frequently than J-Lo gets a new husband.

When my hair grows long, it covers my bald spot slightly, and I fool myself into thinking that my hair follicles have produced new strands of hair. This delusion is ruined the moment I get a haircut and the hairdresser does the unkindest thing anyone can do: puts a mirror behind my head to give me a rear view. The only thing I see, of course, is a map of the Sahara Desert.

Photo by Justin Follis on Unsplash

I’ve tried my best to come to terms with my balding. It helps to know other bald men with whom I can commiserate. That’s why I joined a baldness support group. We get together once a month to share our stories of hair loss. There’s Al and Bruce and Pedro and Salman and a few other guys. We have varying degrees of baldness. For example, Bruce has a bachelor’s degree, I have a master’s, and Salman has a PhD (prominent hair deficiency).

Our last meeting began, as it usually does, with a little sharing. We sat in a circle and shared a bottle of wine. It always helps the guys open up. Salman took a sip and said, “I like to focus on the positives of balding. For example, you can’t die from balding. There are no health risks.”

“That’s not true,” Bruce said. “If a coconut falls on your head, you are a goner. You have no protective layer of hair.”

Pedro pointed at his hat. “That’s why I like to wear this,” he said. “You have to protect your coconut.”

I nodded. But I knew that my head could not be compared to a coconut. I’ve seen coconuts in the store and all of them have more hair than I do.

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Fine print: A small portion of this column has appeared before in The Humor of Melvin Durai. Consumption of alcoholic beverages impairs your ability to drive a car or operate machinery, and may cause health problems. Wearing a hat will not protect you from large coconuts.