Sitting in a barber’s chair on a Sunday morning is a great time and place to judge how old you look. This piece of gyan, was of course, the direct result of getting a “chop” (as we use to call it during our younger days) a few days ago.In these testing times of recession where the focus is on frugality and minimal expenditure, I decided to go to the neighbourhood barber shop to get a chop instead of travelling in my car to the fancy saloon a couple of kilometres from the house where the final bill would be in 3 figure number.
So while I waited for one of chairs to become empty, I took a look at my surroundings comparing this new place against the other places I have frequented in the past.This was a typical Barber shop. None of the fancy stuff lying around the place, but it was yet a very neat and tidy place unlike the shops of yore, where the floor was covered in hair and the smell of the heavy after shaves & lotions hung in the air. The continuous sound of the scissors sniping at the customer’s hair, the old radio in one corner belting out the latest (or were they old numbers) Kannada music numbers, the end–to–end wall covered mirrors placed in front of the barber’s high chair so that customers could watch the gradual change in their outwardly appearances as the barber worked his magic and the thousand other knick knacks that are an integral part of any barber shop.
When I was finally seated in one of the empty chairs, I realised that the seat was quite warm. I do not know how long the previous guy was sitting in that chair nor was I interested in knowing if he had – as they say – *“Broken Wind”* while sitting in it. But this was a situation like joining a new workplace where the previous guy had most likely left behind a mountain of mess for you to clean up leaving you with the distinct feeling that it would have been better off to have stayed at your earlier workplace.
After having given the required instructions to the barber, I leaned back and waited patiently for him to start. Most barbers are a talkative lot offering their opinion on everything under the sun – from why India lost the previous match to how the Government officials make money on infrastructural projects and transfer it to their Swiss bank accounts. This chap however, was quite and went about his job in a workman like manner minding his own business, leaving me to mull over my thoughts.
At the end of the chop, he held up the hand mirror and asked me if the job was satisfactorily done. I replied in affirmation of his neat work and complemented him on a job well done.
Then he asked me question that I should have seen coming in the immediate near future – “Would you like to get your hair dyed to cover the greys?”. Mildly amused and vexed at the same time, I declined his polite offer of making me look younger and better than my hair suggested. He tried again – “We’ll use only natural colours or even mehendi if you are scared of using the creams and lotions. Would you like to try it?”. Again I brushed him off but in a much firmer voice this time around. And he backed off looking crestfallen at the prospect of having lost the chance to make some extra money for himself and his shop.
Strangely enough, I wasn’t offended or hurt at his comments. But I wondered why I declined his suggestion of trying it even once. Perhaps it was because I had seen other people in my age group who had tried these tricks of looking younger and better earlier. The happiness was short-lived as it lasted only till the colour lasted. As the colour faded away, it became more and more difficult to make peace with one’s advancing age. And the visits to the barber shop (or saloon as some upper class people called it) became more frequent and it became a vicious circle of trying to make yourself happy.
I guess I have too many circles that I circle over and over again to add another one to my already complicated life. If I need to make life simpler and happier, I just need to cut down the number of circles and start focussing on stuff that truly makes me happy.
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