The Nazi Salon!

I got up early today to pay my Electric Bill, something I’ve gotten used to now-a-days – no not getting up early, paying bills! Anyhow, after a lot of fight with the new BESCOM ATM styled automatic bill payment machines, I ended up losing all the change in my wallet and was left with a 1000 buck note – the result of what happens if you think too much; should I put a 1000 buck note and let the balance get deducted from next bill? Or should I give the machine nearly the exact change? Time value of money and all that BS.

On my way back I found this “Haircut beauty parlor for men”, I was a little bit hesitant to walk, but still did as I was looking for a salon since I moved to this new part of Bangalore. Now I really don’t care about my hair, I frankly don’t, and I can easily count the number of times I’ve had to use a comb (two, if you count the time I had to do this weird Sanskrit skit in school, which is a completely different story). And I believe, getting a haircut done is something that comes naturally to me. Seriously, I don’t know if they have a record for the youngest kid to walk into a salon all by himself, but if there is one I should have totally got it.

I learned the nuances of getting a hair cut done early on in my life, if I can proudly say. It was easy and all I had to do or rather the secret behind my success in this task was to answer that one simple question with one word – do you want it short or medium?

Every barber asks the same question and the answer to it, if you are a kid, undoubtedly with a strong inflection on the word – Short!! Now I understood early on that this was the reply that would result in something that would keep both my parents and that physical training teacher at school happy. To put it in few words, I was a good boy, who made his parents proud every time he had a haircut.

Wherever I go, the barbers seem to keep things easy to me by asking the same question. I knew a lot of kids who used to complicate the answer to this question by showing pictures on the wall, describing some movie star e.t.c these are exactly the kids that got into a lot of trouble at school.. And when I grew up went to college, the key was to answer this question with one word again – Medium, but this time do it with a style - like shake your hand and head with sync, pause a little and then say hhmm medium.

Looking at others around me at salon, who had to fight, nag and beg the barber to get it done, I always thought that I was born talented and I had something in me that makes it to so easy for me to get a haircut done.

Recently, to be exact, over the past two months I couldn’t find a salon near this new house and having never owned a comb in my entire life, my hair turned pretty bad. It gave me the stares at office and a visit from home planet made things even worse. I got strict orders to get the mess on my head cut before the weekend; it was always on weekends, my hair cut. Apparently, I was told as a child, that any other day of haircut would make the gods angry and you wouldn’t want to make them angry, well at least for silly things like a haircut.

Now that brings me back to the story of paying bills and having found a new place to get a haircut. Now if you are already bored reading, I would suggest you to stop because it is going to be long. I am about to enter the second page of a word doc and I have not done this stunt before.

So, out of desperation I walked into this not so decent looking salon and the barber inside directed me to my seat. He had a straight and serious look on his face, my barber, and with a moustache that reminded me a lot of the Nazi Soup guy in Seinfeld.  He seemed as if he just had a fight with someone and I didn’t want to do anything that would add to his anger, so I silently walked to the seat, made myself comfortable and waited for the golden question to be asked. He gathered all the paraphernalia required placed them on a table in front and turned to me and asked “what do you want?”

It is a slightly different question but being the expert I am at this, I knew the answer was same and simple, I have seen many versions of this question in my vast experience and I know exactly what to do.

But inside my head something told me that I have to cheer this guy up, and so replied with a smile, left eye blink and a sarcastic tone – “Haircut”. He just let out a deep breathe and stood with his hands folded staring, as hard as he can, at me. Making people angry with my stupid jokes is not new to me, but I haven’t seen someone this angry and most importantly I realized that I have messed up with the system. I was so good at this because I had a process and I never deviated from it, until now!

I quickly replied short hoping this would put back things to normal. He followed up with a series of questions in his angry tone

How short? Pointing his scissors to the side of my head  this short?  till here?

I had no idea about exactly how short or long I want my hair to be, the barbers always seem to decide it for me and all of sudden I am being asked to make this decision myself, am I prepared for it?

This went on for some time, I kept pointing my finger at different areas on my hair and he would cut it short till there and then move to the next question. And every time I try getting a glance of my face on the mirror he would tap on the back of my head twice with his finger, a gesture meant for me to stop moving my head, which I realized only after a good number of strong taps. Finally we reached the end of the ritual where he would give the finishing touch with a shaving blade. Now, I am sensitive and ticklish at the back of my neck like most other macho men, so I tend to giggle like most other . . .
It is probably the only time I can afford to laugh with a blade put up next to my neck.

But I knew if I do that today, there is a high probability of me not walking out of this place. So as he started off with the blade I bit my lip hard to control from laughing, till finally it reached a point of beyond control where I burst into a huge guffaw. He stopped put the blade on the table and with a frustrated look nodded his head to show some kind of disagreement and said “It’s done”

I knew exactly what he meant it is the equivalent of “No more Haircut for you!!”

I got up and with out even thinking for a second started walking out of the place when he blocked my way and said angrily 30 bucks!!

I hit the back of my head for forgetting, took the wallet out only to realize what is inside. I slowly moved the 1000 rupee note out, pointing it towards him and said change ??

He just stood stand still with his hands folded and stared . . .