The Story Behind My Silver Hair

The title of this article begins with the very first lines of the poem “Psalm of Life” written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, which reads: “Tell me not in mournful numbers that life is but an empty dream”. True! Life cannot be an empty dream because the life of anyone is the 

output that gets carved into existence by sweat and perseverance as the age grows further. Then, there is William Shakespeare, who, in his comedy “As You Like It,” goes on to tell us about the different stages of life we cross over. There comes a time for all living beings to gradually see wrinkles on their faces, carved by time.  

Each passing stage of age tells you your own kind of stories of achievements and failures, not to forget the fact that human lives enraptures the images like landscapes passing through a fast-traveling train. So, let us delve into my own story of multiplying life and the various stages that I have encapsulated as a 76-year-old septuagenarian. Here begins the real story of my life! 

Reflection

As I gaze into the mirror, I meet with a reflection that tells a story of its own. My silver hair, once a subtle sprinkle of gray, has now become a distinguished crown that adorns my head. Each strand represents a journey, a memory, and a lesson learned. My silver hair is more than just a physical attribute; it's a testament to the wisdom, experience, and love that have shaped me over the years. 

I remember the first gray hair I found, a solitary strand that seemed to mock me with its premature appearance. I was still young, and the idea of aging seemed like a distant reality. But as the years went by, more and more of these silver strands appeared, each one a reminder of the passing of time. And yet, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment with each new gray hair that sprouted. Like birds fledge their young ones, the age did the same to me from birth till now. Different kinds of ambitions sprouted in me, dreaming of a life of crème de la crème in society.

 The desire to bedazzle everyone with dreams of becoming famous in society had always been there; common to everyone in life. The desire to make seismic moves in plans and encouragement from my friends and loved ones to work hard in life was music to my ears. My earnest desire had always been not to wound my pride in society.  

My silver hair is a storybook of memories, each page filled with tales of love, laughter, and tears. It's a reminder of the struggles I've faced, the challenges I've overcome, and the triumphs I've achieved. It's a testament to the late nights, early mornings, and countless moments of uncertainty. But most of all, it's a celebration of the journey, the people I've met, and the experiences that have shaped me into the person I am today. 

As I've grown older, I've come to realise that my silver hair is not just a sign of aging, but a symbol of wisdom, experience, and character. It's a reminder that I've lived, I've loved, and I've learned. 

And with each passing year, I feel more confident, more at peace, and more grateful for the journey that has brought me to where I am today. 

To those who are younger and may be anxious about their own gray hair, I say, "Don't be afraid!” Let your silver hair be a badge of honour, a reminder of the wisdom and experience that you've accumulated over the years. Don't try to hide it or dye it away; instead, let it shine as a beacon of confidence and self-acceptance. 

A sense of gratitude 

As I look back on my life, I'm filled with a sense of gratitude and wonder. My silver hair may be a reminder of the passing of time, but it's also a testament to the incredible journey that I've been on, and as I move forward, I know that my silver hair will continue to tell its story, a story of love, laughter, and the wisdom that comes with age. In order to make my opinion more emphatic and meaningful, I refer to the lines on old age written by Francis Bacon: “Age appears to be best in four things; old wood best to burn, old wine to drink, old friend to trust and old author to read.”  

Everybody has his or her story to tell on old age and their juvenile days, e.g., significant life events, failures, successes and drawbacks. 

However, when the hair gradually takes up silver colour from raven’s black and emits natural luminescence, age then takes a propitious course in making you see the world grow younger again. 

 One poet J. Edwards by name also wrote a beautiful poem on grey hair aptly says; 

“Do not struggle, R. A. Proteet (his friend). 

With grey hair - you can’t compete. Curl it, comb it, tease it too, but fighting gray will not do! Be happy or at least content that all you hair to hell ain’t went. Yes, the grey hair is here for now to stay, And baldness may strike you any day! 

I kindly conclude that grey hair once again is the output of passing years that carved into existence by sweat and perseverance. 

Outline text: 

I repent now for having slapped my thighs and wheezed with laughter on seeing men and women with fully-sprouted grey hair moving around in my juvenile days.  

Now, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude urges me to express my heartfelt thanks to His Almighty for whatever he has done for allowing me to live with silver hair this long so far! 

(The author is a retired radio broadcaster)