I'm A 32-Year-Old Man Who Just Discovered The 1st White Hair In My Beard & It's Freaking Me Out

It's brunch time on a lazy Sunday. I'm sitting in my barber's chair, flipping through magazines I otherwise never read. Some godforsaken cricket match is playing on the television, attracting idle stares of people waiting on the couch. The room's buzzing with the sound of scissors and hair trimming machines.

As I admire my haircut, which I think is pretty damn awesome, I slide down the chair a little, pushing my head back. It's time for a shave. I love this part. If I only knew what was coming.

"White hair!" exclaims my barber, before saying, "Join the club." I look at him and then at the mirror in horror, searching to confirm my fear. It's barely visible in all the sea of black, but I finally see it. My disbelief is quickly run over by a bullet train of thoughts.

1) I'm going to die. Not because I'm morbidly obese, struggling to fit in this chair, with a heart that's working twice as hard to pump blood into every tiny corner of my plus-plus-sized body. Not that at all. This little white speck sticking out from the lush forest of black under my chin is a far deadly reminder of my mortality, believe me.

2) I'm officially an Uncle. Yep, no more trying to correct neighborhood kids into calling me Bhaiya. That ship sailed away long ago, only I hadn't realised until it crashed horrendously on my barber's truth-spitting mirror.

3) What have I done with my life? I still haven't visited Leh or sailed through the backwaters of Kerala. Haven't gone on a journey to discover myself, as they say. No puckered face selfies on Instagram. No puff of weed, no swig of bootlegged liquor, no driving licence, not even an Aadhaar card yet. OMFG!

4) A mental note to check if the white abomination on my face had reached my pubic region. The still unconquered bastion of my youth and vigour!

Reuters // How I imagined myself while I cried

5) Carl Sagan asked us to admire our existence through the Pale Blue Dot. And here I'm wondering how I'll adjust to life with my Pale White Blot. Ugh.

6) Why is the changing colour of my hair causing me more concern than my steadily receding hairline? Logic much, dear brain?

7) I need to finish watching Season 8 of The Walking Dead to see if Viggo Mortensen makes an appearance as Andrew Lincoln's twin brother. Ghoul, too. Re-watch The Office and Scrubs to immediately inject some happiness into my life -- sorry Seinfeld.

8) Re-read The Lord of The Rings, the greatest book ever written. Say reborn Gandalf doesn't look so bad in all-white now, does he?

Desi Martini // Exactly how I wiped my tears

9) High time I wrote my will. Today it's just a single white hair, who knows what tomorrow will bring? My PlayStation 4 won't be owner-less. No sir.

10) Looks like I'll never see Bombay turn into Shanghai, get to play Half Life 3 or review a quantum computer. One last window seat on the Virar fast is all I can realistically hope for.

11) Alas! I'm finally old in my tender thirties. But thirty is the new twenty, right? Right?!

"Time for this?" My barber's voice snaps me out of my mental tailspin. He's holding a bottle of hair colour and a big smile.

I sigh. Is this my life now?