Of beards and turbans

I WAS walking along minding my business when, out of the blue, comes crashing into my head this word Balochistan. It was mumbled by our usually reticent PM from some place in Egypt whose national monument is the Sphinx, famous for keeping silent. And pronto! everyone is discussing Baloch this and Baloch that.

Where the heck or who the heck or what the heck is Baloch. Curiosity led one to Google hoping to unearth some fascinating new territory. Nix. It is devoid of anything hip or groovy. Just a bunch of old mountains and boring deserts. I won't plan a vacation there any time soon.

What bothers me about Balochistan is that I'm stuck with another word I'll never use when this is all over. It's funny how outlandish places enter one's lingo when some international nastiness takes place there. Pakistan plays a big role in increasing my vocabulary. Baramula and Gilgit sneaked into my dictionary after Pak triggered the troubles in Kashmir. They did it again in the Punjab and forced me to memorise Khem Karan and Ichhogil canal. Now I have to grapple with Balochistan and Waziristhan in addition to Afghanistan and Pakistan. All these spots have names ending in 'stan'. Hope they don't seek to add Rajasthan to the list.

The citizens of these 'stans' are a dramatic-looking bunch, straight out of a Hollywood Thief of Baghdad or Lawrence of Arabia. Lurking behind these beards are Robert Redford or even Akshaye Khanna.

Why do they cover up so much? Beards are probably grown to stop desert sands from blowing into their sinuses, and the turbans to prevent mountain winds ruining their hair-dos. It's also a good way to look alike and confuse the US Marines. "Hey fella, are you Obama, I mean, Osama?" "Sorry. Try the next mountain."

Washington now informs us there are bad Talibans and good Talibans. Good Talibans are home-loving, liking nothing better than lazing out the long winters in cozy caves, shampooing their hair. The bad Talibans, locally known as the Talibads, polish their Kalashnikovs, oil their shoulder-launched missiles and play with their nuclear-powered catapults.

I wouldn't invite either type to my club for a meal. I might get into trouble with the Managing Committee if my guests refuse to remove their turbans. And they're probably not keen on small talk over dinner. "Why do you suppose there are no Brahmins in the Hindu Kush?" Also if they suspect the identity of the meat in the Vindaloo Special, they might give the club's address to a suicide bomber.

Speaking of turbans, when did Indians drop their traditional head cover? Any 100-year old photograph of a Bombay street shows the place awash with turbans, pugrees, fezes, fetas, topees, Gandhi caps etc. What made them suddenly decide to bare their tops? It's believed that offices could not provide enough hat-stands.

Lots of my friends proudly sport beards, including my brother. I'll present them with a turban on their next birthday.

Sylvester da Cunha is the chairman of daCunha Associates