I have always loved my hair. It’s one of the best features of me. But lately, I found strands of it everywhere on the floor of the house. Sometimes a few fell and got stuck under the sofa stand, wedged between its corners. That time, I wish I hadn’t run my finger through my hair— it was as if a nest of hair was wrapping itself around my fingers, with a coiled sense of fear each loop sitting in between the ends of it. I get to the nearest dustbin and slowly unbind my fallen hairs and throw it. Even then, it still latches onto me akin to showing it felt...