Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Just in Barber!! (part 1)

I had to reach my maths tuition by an hour. I placed the immersion rod in the bucket of water, and was waiting for it to be heated up, when suddenly my mummy called out, "You need to go for a haircut today. Do you remember?" Shit! Today was my birthday, and I didn't wanna shorten the length of my hair. But I had to obey my mother. Moreover, I didn't wanna sadden anybody on this special day.

I didn't want to go to the barber to whom I went for my last haircut, for he didn't cut it properly and so, I had to come for haircut again, in the same month.

I went to the barber a little away from my house. But the roadside wall where he keeps his mirror and sets his 'shop', was deserted. One could not guess the wall is occupied by a barber.

Then I went to another shop, which is no less than a log-made military camp. But that too was found closed. My tension was increasing as I knew, my maths tuition time was coming closer and closer. Just an hour in my hand, or even less, which included the time I would use to hunt a barber, get the haircut, take a bath, and cycle till tuition.

So finally I walked till another barber's shop. Relief! It was open. There were two arrangements for haircut, one of which was empty. A person was sitting clumsily on that hair-cutting chair, while the other chair was coveted by a customer, his cheeks painted with white shaving cream, and a barber caressing them with his 'astura'. I mistook the fellow sitting on the other chair, to be a second barber, and requested him if he could cut my hair. Thanks to God that he was a polite fellow. I was on the verge of getting thrashed in the public.

The other fellow, who was still 'dating' with the customer's white polished cheeks, told me that he had to do the same with two other customers. He could cut my hair only after this. I found no use waiting there.

If I would walk till another barber, I'd get late, as his shop is very far. So there was just one way out..... to continue with the fellow with whom I didn't want to get my haircut. I had learnt one new thing. There is a saying in hindi which means that 'in every grain of food, its eater's name is written'. Today I have learnt:
"In every follicle of hair, the barber's name is written".

Finally I went to that barber. He too was busy with another customer's beard. But his work was on the verge of completion. I went and sat on the nearby bench. Another fellow was sitting beside me. A newspaper (Dainik Jagran) was kept there. I didn't care who owned it. I turned the pages, and read two news pieces. One was about Salman Khan's murdering a deer. The deer must have taken rebirth and enjoying life by now. But poor Salman Khan still has to wrack his head over it. Another news was of a man having more than 100 family members which includes his wives, children, and grandchildren.

After reading the news, I looked at the barber how far he had proceeded. A gentleman suddenly appeared in front of me that time. He asked for the newspaper as it was his. I handed it over to him. The man who was waiting for his turn, was still beside me, gossiping with the barber.

When the barber finally finished shaving his customer, and his chair became empty, I soon went and sat there. I was lucky the person beside me was looking the other way, and i took advantage of it.

I sat on the wooden chair, seeing my handsome face on the mirror. Don't think I'm boasting. Actually I dislike having a haircut. Before every haircut, I see my 'long' hair and feel myself handsome, which I'd not be after some time.

The other person on the bench, the one who had to wait again, saw me, and tried to hide his foolishness. He tried to show that he had done a favour to me.

I didn't pay any attention to him. I had to finish up this 'hair cutting ceremony', and reach my tuition.

The gentleman, who was a barberian barber of Baber's era, began his work like the local train. I requested him to make my hair shorter this time. He said, "alright".

So the barber began his toys on my head. Simultaneously he was chatting with the person on the bench. I wanted to tell the barber to pay more attention on my haircut. But I couldn't do so as the barbers here, are very cunning. I feared if I'd tell him to hurry, he'd cut my ear, and then, would boldly say, "What could I do? You yourself said me to hurry".

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