We have all had our horror experiences with barbarians. Men specifically. Women too. However, women seem to have limited interactions with the people I am talking about. They have beauticians for their myriad requirements.
Yes, I call the barbers at the saloon I frequent - BARBARIANS!! For an exceptionally long period of my stay at New Delhi, haircuts have left me with mixed emotions. I invariably go for the ’short hair look’, almost bordering on a crew cut. The reasons for this are:
1) Eliminates plastic teeth aka combs.
2) It is hard for people to figure out if you have had the customary morning bath.
3) The feeling after a heavy coat is sheared off, is why sheep are ba(ah)lmy with happiness.
4) I like to live under the impression that short hair make me look slightly cuter.
5) Why are you reading the reasons why I like short hair?
Coming back to the mixed emotions. Haircuts and barber shops have their positives. Some of them I have mentioned above. Also I love the infinite images formed between two mirrors facing each other. (Smells like Geek spirit !!)
They use a spray to wet our hair. Localized showers always interested me. Mostly the bottles used are old Cleaning Agent / Disinfectant solution containers (emptied out, hopefully) or, get this, ‘Agricultural Spray Bottles’. Suddenly terms like ‘cropped’ and shampoos with ‘essential nutrients’ make sense. The different types of customers, the ridiculous conversations and the obligatory and often interesting chat with the barber make haircuts more like outings and less like chores.
However, when snip comes to shave, barbarians conspire to:
1) make me look like a spring flower (daisies mostly).
2) manage to give me war marks.
Almost without fail, I have cuts and burns to contend with after I am done. Style, I have resigned to believe, is something which is not a part of the service.
The above two are not the only negatives against these ‘outings’. I like to believe I am cautious. Hence, to avoid infections and for the sake of immediate treatment, I carry a small bottle of an antiseptic, namely ‘Dettol’, with me. My friends find this highly amusing. The barber found the notion of keeping an antiseptic and cleaning the instruments after each use too revolutionary and radical to implement. Hence, I was forced to take such a ’severe’ step. The obvious jokes, made by my friends, followed, don’t forget your bottle of ‘Dettol’ when you go to play, to the canteen, to the washroom, to the library, to the principals’ office etc. you never know what infections lurk there.
Their argument lacks any fiber of logic just as S.B.’s head lacks fibers of hair. Nonetheless, their comments had me amused as well. So, as I was waiting for my turn (which can get very boring and hence is another negative) during my latest visit, a man walked into the saloon and asked the barbers if they had ‘Dettol’. I felt vindicated. A smile grew on my face. The barbers consulted amongst themselves. The man pointed out that ‘Dettol’ was essential. I had to commend this man for his fight against barber room infections.
I rose from my seat and said, “Don’t worry, I have dettol”. I sure did feel like the hero then.
He said, “How??”
From my pocket, I pulled out the smallish vial of the amber liquid I was carrying and showed it to him with a smile.
I was expecting awe and gratitude.
They all laughed (The barbarians, the ‘enlightened customer’, and others waiting for their turn). “I meant dettol shaving cream, not the dettol given by doctors.”
I was visibly embarressed and tried to get some pride back by blurting, “well you never know where you might get it” instead of a more sensible “well you never know where you might need it?”
Anyhow, no more ‘outings’ for a month at least. Unless I grow a mane anytime soon.
Posted in My Take
