20ish years ago, my family was living in the US and my brother and I came to Bombay to spend a few months with my Nani and Nana during our summer holidays. In addition to the classics - Bollywood dance classes, Hindi classes, and volunteer teaching kids English - I remember I used to insist on applying onion juice on my hair. I stayed away from the yellow besan with haldi and milk face mask my aunt made even though I loved the smell, because it always stained my pillowcase later at night. But this hair potion, I seemed to love from day one.
My Nana used to watch me come out of the kitchen with my hair in a messy bun, headband in place to keep the juice out of my eyes, as I would sit at the dining table to chill with him while he would slowly finish his dinner. He always said it was important to chew each bite one hundred times before swallowing. No one had time for that, but we didn’t want to leave him alone either. He’d be in his inside clothes - a white shalwar kameez - nearly see-through after being worn for many decades, refusing to let anyone buy him a new pair.
“Why do you do all these things, Safia jaan?” He would say, shaking his head.
Nani and my brother would be bustling around in the background, washing up and getting the table in the living room ready for us to play Rummy together.
“It’s good for your hair, Nana! You should try it sometime,” then we’d both laugh as he’d stroke his hand over his peach fuzz.
“That reminds me. I have to get a hair cut this week.” The peach fuzz needed its weekly trim.
Then we’d play our nightly round of cards, where he’d say ‘calling’ - one card away from being done - even though he was already done. He’d let us win, thinking he’d put up a good fight.
I’d wash my hair and show him the next morning: “Doesn’t my hair look great, Nana?”
I honestly don’t recall where I got the onion juice idea since it was before the era of getting all beauty news and life advice from Instagram. I’m pretty sure bananas and avocado came later - this was the OG. My hair hadn’t even gone through ‘life’ yet so I don’t know if it made any difference.
But for some reason, a few days ago, the minute my physio said I could stand on two feet without crutches, it was the first ‘indulgent’ thing I wanted to do. Maybe spending more time than usual at home had made me ‘slow down,’ and become temporarily a bit allergic to ‘efficiency.’ Maybe everything on Nykaa felt a little too commercial, or maybe it was because it takes four shampoos to get oil out of my thin hair. Maybe it felt like something I seem to only do in India.
When I proudly announced (to anyone that cared) that I had just put the stinky mixture into my hair, one that stung my eyes momentarily and also left a big mess in the kitchen, and then topped it up with a 30 minute ‘egg mask’ - I got a range of reactions.
“You might as well have used a blow drier and cooked an omelette on your head!” - a guy friend
“Man... I want all this self care for myself too!” - another guy friend
“Yes, the sulfur is really good for your scalp.” - a female friend who clearly knows what’s up
“I also heard it’s very good. But so smelly so I don’t do it. Is it making a difference for you?” - my cook
“It reminds me of growing up in Kochi - my cousins used to run away from the smell and my aunt always wanted to apply it!” - a stranger I had just met
“Why do you always do this kind of naatak baazi, Safia!” - Nani, shaking her head disapprovingly just as Nana would have
20 years ago a maid used to just hand me a little steel bowl with the mixture and I’d apply it over the kitchen sink. I didn’t realise what the process of making it entailed until I tried it myself those few days ago.
And now I can say - putting onion juice in your hair is a ridiculous thing to do. Not least because it’s a pain in the ass to either use a lemon zester to ‘grate’ the onion into a strainer, after which you realise the little pulp that comes from the grater is sufficiently thin enough to put directly on your scalp. But also because tiny pieces of onion fall around everywhere as it dries up and you carry on your business around the house.
The next time I tried a different technique - I chopped up onions, put them in the Nutribullet, then added yoghurt and curry leaves (I use IG now, remember) until it became a paste. Put that mixture through the strainer and applied. Easy peasy and much less eye-stinging.
During the phases I had a working Nutribullet in London, it was strictly for smoothies. Putting an onion in there - for a hair mask of all things - which would likely leave a lingering smell and taste, would have been an utterly preposterous thing to do. I only remember putting an egg or yoghurt mask in once or twice.
There are versions of me that seem to only come out while in Bombay. The woman who asks her cook for beauty advice. Who shares her beauty routine with strangers on the chance they might have memories attached to it too. Who re-lives tiny moments from the past through actions today.
They don’t always make sense. In fact, they’re rarely rational. But I suppose that’s part of why I’m here. Not to become a particular version of myself, but to make space for all the ones that want to come out.
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