Gaylords

It’s said that in the days of kings and mafia warlords, the barber was appointed after careful scrutiny. Understandable, considering that the barber was the only person who was allowed to hold a knife to the king’s neck. The barbers were the most trustworthy and skilled persons.

I’m afraid I can’t say the same about the barbers I’ve met in my life. I’ve met them all – from the old ones to the new, from the modern ones to the ones who sit under a tree with an umbrella and a mirror. And I’ve never had good luck with them. Not once.

Since my ‘Cap Style’ days, to my ‘Spikes’ days, to the dark and tragic ‘Tere Naam’ days, my hair has been subjected to numerous experiments, and I was always on the losing side.

So frustrated was I with barbers that I had stopped shaving or getting a haircut for a few months. Then, a few weeks back, Mr. P. Sainath was to come down to our department and I was to interview him. Lest he should think I was a suicide bomber, I was politely asked to shave and get a haircut.

In our campus, there is a saloon where students are entitled to hair cuts at subsidised rates. Now, there is a reason why Habib’s charges 500 bucks and our campus saloon wala charges 20 rupees. The equipment used is much simpler here – the razor looks like it was invented a week after man invented the wheel. Hygiene is not top priority either, and for the finicky ones, a blade is split in half and inserted into the blade, which will be used to scrape off hair from the sides.

So anyway I had half an hour in hand, and I quickly explained to the anna sitting that I wanted a haircut urgently. This is one aspect of getting a haircut that I am yet to master – giving instructions. Barbers are creative guys, and careful instructions will ensure you don’t look like the reigning mass hero of the time.

“Cut the sides, leave some hair in the front”, I said.

Since the two main barbers were busy, I was sent to the third guy. This guy was a lot younger, and looked like an apprentice. He made me sit on the chair, and covered me with the white shawl. He took off my specs, and placed them on the table in front. Now, this is the second reason why my haircuts are always screwed up.

Remember the Alif Laila stories where the evil Vizar’s life was in a parrot? My vision, similarly, is in my specs. Once you take them off, I am pretty much at the mercy of the barber.

The young guy sprayed some water on my hair, and began talking. He told me that he always wanted to have long hair, but his grandfather wouldn’t let him. He told me that he had let his hair grow long thrice, and all the three times his grandfather had threatened to chop them off while he was sleeping.

“Hair style hona toh Allu Arjun jaisa hona, bhaiyya”

Lesson 1: Never go to a barber who has film aspirations.

Since I was in a hurry, I didn’t respond to any of his questions. The guy had all the time in the world to do his thing. Behind me, there was a TV, in which there was a film playing. Nagarjuna had this hot secretary called Anu and she was really hard working and stuff. This guy was watching the movie, and smiling when the jokes came on, and humming when the songs came on, and generally concentrating more on the film than on my hair.

Lesson 2: Never go to a barber who has film aspirations, and is watching a film while cutting your hair.

I kept looking at my watch, and he at the TV. After about fifteen minutes, he took out the blade and asked me if he could scrape off the edges. Now, I am no mafia don, but I am not very comfortable with the scraping off bit. I asked him to skip that procedure. He cut off a little of my hair, and left some hair on the top.

Proudly, he took off the shawl, as if he was unveiling the Mona Lisa. I immediately reached for my specs, and looked at the mirror, and my heart sank. It was another bad haircut.

Now, my head looks strangely rectangular and stretched. There is no hair on the sides, and some hair right on top of my head. To add to the misery, since I was in a hurry, the guy forgot to cut any hair on the back, which has led to tufts of hair on the back of my head. The kind last seen on Anil Kapoor in the early 90s, and in Mahabharat.

As I walked out of the saloon, I remembered that I had forgotten a vital fact.

Lesson 3: Never go to a barber who has film aspirations, is watching a film while cutting your hair, and works in a saloon called ‘Gaylords’.

So here I am, after years of bitching about barbers, still walking around with a lousy haircut, and while people come up to me and smile, I don’t know if they are friends, or merely amused by my stupid hairstyle.

You know all these wise people who have these smart quotations to their name – like Plato, Aristotle, the Buddha, Christ, Confucius, Socrates, etc?

They all either had long flowing hair, or were completely bald. They forgot one key fact: True contentment lies in finding the right barber. I am still in pursuit.