THE BARBER'S TAIL

This not-so-sunny afternoon, I decided I wanted the Straight-Out-of-Boot-Camp hair cut. I entered the Den, and an unknown pair of hands was ready to trim the shabby fibers rooted in my head.

He looked fresh, like those guys who just got recruited before they even went to final year. You could see the inexperience in his eyes. I thought I'd give the lad a chance. So, I sat on the coveted, pumped-up chair, and "Army-Cut" is what I uttered. Mist was about to fill my hair, just when I reminded him that the "machine" (clipper) needed execution to get rid of excess hair; 1/2" attachment is what I prefer to start with.

He ignored and nuked my hair with mist from the atomizer; very well. He must have a style of his own. It wasn't easy to use the clipper on my wet strands, as they clung together and refused to give-in to this electrical knife; they've seen better, trimmers. He carried on, switching between "scissors & comb" and "Clipper".

Forty-five minutes later, the growth on the hind, was gone 3/4ths from the bottom. He was painstakingly fine-trimming the hair on the sides and back. I looked at him in dismay, but he was "concentrating", or "ignoring". He heard me guide him every now and then, but that didn't make much difference, either. After he left me with much hair not finely chopped, I requested if I could get an "Army-Cut / Crew-Cut", the kind you see on a Cadet's Head; didn't want that extra blackness on my head. He resumed.

An hour, and I was Pissed. Sitting in that pumped-up seat, wrapped in a white sheet, I saw myself in the mirror, when he said he was done. Has anyone heard of Laloo Prasad Yadav? That was me today. For some godforsaken reason, his best effort, resulted in me looking like the perfect DORK. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeks!!

And all this while, I was just "giving the lad a chance"; a chance to try a clipper and scissors on my hair, and to present me with an appearance resembling a Minister of Parliament. Not bad, shall I say. Afterwards, I noticed in the mirror, an uncontainable giggle from a pro. barber relaxing behind me on the sofa. I yelled out to him, to rescue me. Then came my savior.

DAMAGE CONTROL

He had a hard time, to begin with, but was able to help me smile. His hands were magic: 10/10. Atleast I look like a haryanvi Jat. I realize how handsome I look now, thanks to my comparative analytical skills, I picked up in IDAHO.

Will post a pic soon (don't have my digi-cam). Those of you who want to imagine what I look like, close your eyes, and visualize your local Doodh-wala.