So, it's trendy-ing, grey is the new black: Indian women challenge beauty norms through silver transitions

I've always hated my friend's hair. It's everything mine is not: thick, collyrium black, produced in the miraculous Kerala backwaters that give their women manes so abundant they seem to have been touched by the God of Big Hair.

In all the years I have known her, it has been a lush bob, a desi Bebe Daniels, maintained with the help of the friendly neighbourhood beauty parlour. Her low moods had little to do with the waxing and waning of the moon. They had everything to do with her hair-colouring appointments, after which she would emerge coiffured like a Hollywood retro star, her spirits restored by a blow-dry.

Given that we live in different states, it had been over 6 months since we saw each other. This month, we finally met for coffee.


A woman slid into the chair opposite me.

'Seat's taken,' I said.

'It's me,' she snapped, tossing her head imperiously.

I stared. The hair was unmistakably hers: thick and luxuriant. But the black had disappeared.

'What's with the grey?' I squeaked.

'Sustainable lifestyle,' she replied loftily.

'What, going grey to match your silver-fox partner?'

She sniffed. 'Absolutely not. I'm embracing the inner steel of the ninja feminist that I am. Strong and silver, that's me now!'

Grey hair, which we once regarded as a crisis requiring immediate chemical intervention, has now become a feminist manifesto. But before the dignified silver comes the chaos, and this is an important constituency we must not overlook: the in-betweeners.

These are women who have decided to take the inevitable step, but have not yet arrived at the silver goddess stage. They go through a colour card first and appear with streaks of purple, patches of magenta, flashes of green and blue, and occasionally something resembling the last remnant of Holi on the head.

Today, my Instagram feed is full of Indian women proving that grey hair need not mean surrender to age, beauty norms or cosmetic control. Women in their 30s, 40s and 50s are documenting their transitions, showing off enormous silver curls, elegant salt-and-pepper bobs and streaks that veer from deliberately designed to accidentally inherited.

For generations, Indian women have been taught that grey hair is defeat. A young woman with grey was told she looked prematurely old, an older woman who left it untouched was accused of letting herself go. A man acquires grey temples and becomes distinguished. A woman gets three white strands, and everybody recommends calcium supplements and calls her a relic. Some of this is generational and propelled by the beauty industry's genius at convincing us that every natural process is a problem requiring a product.

Most Indian celebrities and actresses continued to colour their hair well into their later years, while exceptions like Waheeda Rehman and Zeenat Aman have been admired for embracing their silver. Now a younger generation of actresses is slowly going grey. South Indian actress Revathi wears her silver hair with authority. Neha Dhupia has let her silver streak show. Sameera Reddy has spoken about the relief of no longer constantly touching up her roots.

Oddly with the exception of Rajinikanth, who carries his grey hair with the self-assurance of a man who could kick 6 villains before a breakfast of idlis, or the carefully curated silver thatch on Amitabh Bachchan's crown, we see the same anxiety among Bollywood heroes, who are found sporting auburn or copper hair well into their 60s. News washed ashore from Mumbai says that Aamir Khan wants to buck the trend and is letting his whites show.

Going grey is not compulsory feminism, any more than refusing botox, wearing flat shoes, or abandoning bras. If you love your hair black, colour it until you are 90. There is no prize for looking naturally exhausted.

My friend looks smug. I am annoyed, because she looks good in grey.

As for me, I am holding out and making my way through the great chromatic wilderness of blacks and browns. Until one day I too shall say: enough.