Weapons of Destruction. Episode 1: Restless.

This is going to be the ride where things will change between me and Roy, thought Anjali smugly. Vivacious and overbearing, she thought she had her boyfriend right where she wanted him. Today, she was going to tempt him, tantalise him a little: much like those other women riding with their boyfriends on bikes and strategically placing their hands just above boiling point. Yep, she was going to teach those women a thing or two about how to play these games.

Unfortunately, Fate had other plans for her.

Anjali was travelling with her boyfriend on his bike, long straight hair flying in the wind, arms around his waist - maybe even a little lower - when it came and struck her like a whiplash. "Yow!", screamed Anjali, as her insensitive boyfriend kept riding on, mistaking her howl of dismay and pain as pleasure. (But then, isn't that what men usually think anyway?) Vroom vroom! the bike went, and Anjali flailed her hands to and fro, losing her grip on the nether regions of her boyfriend in an attempt to save herself.

Fuck, muttered Anjali under her breath. Fuck, fuck, fuck. For, had she known that her own long strands of Sunsilked hair were going to turn against her so brutally in the wind, she would have come prepared to battle them. With a scrunchie. As luck would have it, though, there was nothing to curtail their free sway.

Who could blame her hair though? Poor things, when they got out of home, they were calm and cocooned on Anjali's scar-free back. They were alright till her stupid boyfriend started riding into the wind. Gusts started teasing the hair - and really, they're quite peaceful beings, these hair; what can they do though if somebody needles them endlessly? - and so they retaliated by spreading their tentacles and slicing the wind into atoms of non-existence. The more stupid ones flew aimlessly around and just got tangled up with each other. One strand, though, went flying like the bullets in The Matrix, straight at the wispy wind lurking at the corner of Anjali's eye, missed by a hair's breadth and poked her where it hurt most - her retina.

Anjali's eye started watering immediately, and she tried to push back the strand of hair. But oh no, this was no ordinary strand. This one had been awarded 'The Long and Strong' title by the Royal Heirs of the Keratin Kingdom, and was bestowed with exceptional powers of resilience in the face of adversity. So it stood its ground (or rather, flew it) and dealt merciless blows to the wisp of wind that sniggered at it from the other corner of Anjali's eye.

Anjali kept screaming, but she couldn't very well pull her hair out of her scalp - that would hurt even more. Even her attempts to restrain the sliky-smooth buggers were in vain - they were not short enough to scrunch up and hold on to, or long enough to tie into a resplendent bun. So she just kept screaming as her boyfriend just kept zipping, grinning from ear to ear.

Her eye throbbed, but she held on. It turned blood red and teared up while she silently hoped that the idiot at the handles would slow down. This was so not going the way she had intended it to.

Unable to bear the injury any longer - an injury now suffered more by her pride than at having her hair flung at her eyes - Anjali dug her nails so deep into her boyfriend's back that he howled in dismay and braked the bike so hard, that she flew above him and landed at the front wheel. Of course, in the process her heel caught at her boyfriend's eye, and he toppled off the bike as well, yelping in pain. All in all, it wouldn't have been a serious accident if it wasn't for the speed with which this entire sequence took place.

People thronged all around them, a press van materialised out of nowhere, and the accident made it to the 3 o clock (as well as the rest of the day's) Breaking News on TV9. Anjali's parents - avid Jai Karnataka supporters and 24/7 watchers of the TV9 news - found out what she was up to, put her under house arrest and got her married to a strange looking man with lots of money within the next three months. Anjali was not too happy with the outcome, but the money more than made up for everything else. Besides, what was her Gym Instructor for, if not to indulge in extra-curricular activities with?

As for her hair, she shaved it all off out of spite, and wore a bouffant wig thereafter. Her hair were not too sad - they did what they had to, in the line of duty. If it meant that they had wreaked havoc in Anjali's life, so be it. After all, with great victory comes great loss.