By: Aalam Singh Batth.
There are certain expectations and qualifications that we generally prefer when we’re availing a service. Like a dentist with good teeth, a trainer with well toned muscles, a lawyer who knows the law, a doctor with a degree in medicine and not a physiotherapist or a barber with good hair. So, imagine my surprise when I walked into a fancy barber shop for the first time in Pune and got a haircut from a bald barber.
Now listen, I am the type of guy who would just call a guy from Urban Clap ( an e-commerce service platform with services ranging from a haircut to cleaning the toilet, not sponsored), get a haircut, then develop a close bonded relationship with the guy and we’d take things beyond the app where we met and then develop a personal relationship on whatsapp, where I would just call him to avail his services. But, it’s all a fantasy a thing we see in movies or reels, in reality in my case the distance would come in cause I am regularly commuting between Pune and Chandigarh. There is a saying that that goes like, “never cheat on your barber”, so I don’t, I make it known that this could most possibly be a one time thing, I am not loyal to anyone, I just need my haircut and I’ll come back once my parents are about to refer me to Nat Geo for an animal documentary. I am very low maintenance when it comes to my hair (as referred to in Politics of the hairy) and possibly one of the underlying cause of my up and coming balding phase, coming soon. So, since I am very ergonomic when it comes to my hair, I often try different barber places, which has shockingly ranged from a single stall booth (premium version of under the mango tree), Ramesh Gents Salon and Barber, a shop called Femina Plus (I don’t care, I just need my haircut, I am a man fyi), trusty surgeon hands of my dad (during lockdown, buzz cut era), a place called koti kutz (cuts with a K and Z), and the fancy shop called Bombay Hair Company (not located in Bombay, in the given case).
I had recently been accused of illegally harbouring a family crows in my hair/nest (allegedly, not proven), so I thought why not go to a good place, to renovate and refurbish the nest. I called and inquired about the prices because what’s the point of getting a very expensive haircut on something that most probably won’t be there in the next 10-20 years. There were various price ranges ranging from a junior barber, senior barber all the way to the owner specially coming to cut the hair at an exorbitant rate. Obviously unsurprisingly given my frugal nature when it comes to my hair, I went for the junior barber. I thought I’d see a dense forest with a lot of vegetation but to my dismay it was a lagoon with a U-Shaped vegetation around it. This brought me to my current dilemma, ‘Should I be concerned that my barber was bald or the experience of losing hair would somehow make him the best person to cut my hair?
Once upon a time he had hair that he once cherished. The grief of losing his hair would only make him more understanding and he’d take delicate care of my hair. He’d bask in the golden memory of a younger him running in open fields with fresh zephyr running through his hair. He’d look at himself in the mirror and style his hair with a lick of saliva, he’d wink at the mirror and look at his head full of hair. As I was imagining him having a wet dream about his erstwhile hair, he sneakingly scammed me into having a hair wash, well that’s more money down the drain. Then I was sneakingly placed in an “express haircut chair “ for people with 12 or less hair. He asked me whether my hair preferred to be on the right or the left, I told him that they’re very apolitical and that he should read ‘Politics of the hairy’ for reference. Then came the big blow, a blow that hurt more than a kick to the family jewels, he said “You ought to keep your hair in the front because otherwise your massive forehead would look like a five head.” The audacity of the guy! No doubt he was right but at least gaslight me into thinking that it was my idea to keep my hair at the front. Like, “Keeping your hair at the front suits you!” But fuck no, he was like, “a bloody plane could land on your forehead and there would still be space to land two more!” Just like a therapist telling you that the reason for your anxiety is not because of something called “spidey-senses” but actually it’s because of daddy issues.
