A Haircut in 1969

Who loves a haircut? Since childhood whenever Dad took me to a barber shop, I asked this to myself. I found answer after a dozen of years and it is only “Barbers and Bosses”. Sometimes or every time we hate to listen something from someone especially like my boss saying, “You would look smarter by a haircut, what you think?” Idiot! He could say straight, to go and cut your hair.  I combed my hair and dressed up to leave but before closing my cabin door, I took two steps back to check myself in mirror.

                Vasco-da-gama is not a posh city still we had barbers who used an Android cellphone or came in Tata Indica or WagonR.  I preferred my bike only as it was easy to get place for parking. It was not hot outside still I could feel the thrill of air condition when I entered into the barber shop. I felt the crowd in there was staring at me like I joined a queue at 9.00AM for a Tatkal ticket. The real crowd seemed doubled with their reflection on mirrors but tingling of their staring seemed doubled by ten times. I never liked such and I moved out slowly in a posture that ‘I will join you guys after a tea’.

                I walked a few yards from there, just to check the other shop was open or not. Amazingly it was not only open but was empty too. I was enough happy thinking that I will walk in front of the same crowd like the proud ‘Uncle Sruze  of Duck Tales’ in previous shop after having a fast haircut. I entered the shop with a smile. The barber uncle was sitting on a bench and was lost in some thoughts. My entering there was like slow covering of cloud over sun, I too hated those scenes. May be, I disturbed him from his thoughts or he didn’t expect any or he was not in a mood, that’s why he looked at me, asking “What do you want?” , silently. I too replied through my eyes, “I won’t ask you a tea.”

I moved to a haircutting chair. I sat and prepared to give my head. His way of getting up from the bench and slow steps towards me gave me sort of that feeling. I looked around. There was no one around. That was an old building. All the equipments there were older than me. Dust gave mat finish to the ‘once white’ walls. He moved very slowly. I could feel a big gap between us. Someone once told me the shop was inaugurated in 1969. I am sure the same now-uncle was must be of my age that time. I couldn’t control my heart, I drooped back. I saw the world outside was moving so fast, like Rajadhani Express. And we were comparatively motion-less. I searched for a transistor. I wished if it could play a Bob Marley. I failed to find that one, and other than that rest all was so nostalgic, the nostalgia of previous life. He asked me whether to use machine and I said ‘yes’. He opened a drawer and took out a haircutting machine. It seemed as an alien instrument for me as I didn’t expect such thing there. That machine carved my head slowly. I was wondering that ‘Could my head look this awkward? 

                Another old man came in. He had dark black and long hair tough he was old. Ironically representing my generation, I was expecting a shining ball over my eyes in a few months. Human tendency, I felt jealous on him, on his hair. I looked at my head. The uncle was trying hard to bring into a shape and he was enough tired. The hairy uncle combed his hair for about five minutes and pulled out a string of hair like a pony tail and shaped it into a hook. These two uncles shared something in Konkini. I didn’t care much because I know they were talking about me only and must be saying ‘What this fool is doing here, when Vasco is rich in having Air Conditioned Saloons’. I too was thinking same only, ‘what the hell made me to give my head there?’

                I was almost finished and when I was stepping out of chair, another young man came in. This time uncle couldn’t control, and he literally asked him, “What do you want?” Uncle couldn’t control himself, all the patience he awarded me and kept my head alive for at least one more haircut in future released like a fire ball to that poor new chap. Then everything was silent. I gave him thirty rupees and made my way out to 2011 from 1969. Luck or bad luck never favour more than one at a time, usually seen so. The uncle sat back on his bench and the climate reverted there back into 1969, and cloud is gone from the sun.  I saw the young man following me out of the ‘1969’s Barbershop’.

                I passed through the first shop and found a fresh crowd. Sometimes something takes us to different world realizing the previous was better and a little patience could hold us there, the better place.