The Hair and the Tortoise

Note: In between, when you find statements in italics, it is my alter ego responding to my writing. Really? And you thought this was a cool way of writing, why?

The title is not a spelling mistake. This is not the usual children's story, but a gripping tale of a struggling man from downtown Meghalaya, an effervescent Brahmin boy from Madras and a pair of scissors. Basically, you got a haircut.

Yes, I did. As a man, I have always wondered why men go to expensive saloons. When I was 9 years old, my dad religiously took me to the same Malabar saloon every time he thought my hair was too long. Your dad thought that every month. He is your dad too. Oh, yeah. Sorry.

Every month, my dad used to leave me at the saloon, tell the guy 'Summer cut, pa. Clean cut.' and walk off. There were the same set of people with disheveled hair, reading a Tamil crime novel or staring at the then new Tamil heroine's 'hot picture' which was on the cover, while I innocently sat outside and read Young World. No, you didn't. You were trying to peek at the cover.

Okay, maybe I did. But I at least looked like I was reading Young World. A haircut then costed 9 Rupees. I was given 10, and was never asked for accounts for the gargantuan balance that remained. You bought Caramilk! Whoever buys Caramilk? Caramilk was the second suckiest chocolate ever after Nutrine Mahalacto. Mahalacto wins hands down because they could have decoratively packed a pebble instead of the chocolate and Nobody would have known the difference.

You're making me digress. When I got to college, all the girls were going to Bounce or Studio Profile or Naturals. I am sure all the boys went to a Malabar Saloon or a Dhanush Saloon, but nobody had the balls to admit it. When I heard stories from these girls, I swear I heard my wallet sob. They paid 900 Rupees and all for a haircut! You paid 900 once. No, that was including the price of the Philips hair-dryer I broke.

How can you pay 900 bucks to lose hair? In Tirupati, they cut it all for free; and you get blessings from Balaji too. Some girls paid this 900 to cut the bottom-most part of their tresses alone, which aren't even noticeable, and that's called Step Cut it seems. 

Anyway, now I go to this other famous saloon called Green Trends. They employ these Manipuri/Nepali barbers who have such ridiculous hairstyles. How can I trust my hair with a man who has an electric blue streak in the middle of his head? Some have gelled it and spiked it up like the shocked guy in the Anchor Switches advertisement. You should stop cracking jokes. Actually, on second thought, Good one, bro. *fist bump*

Why do they always ask me 'Sir, what hair style yoo freefer?'. Every boy in Tamilnadu prefers and knows only 2 styles. Summer cut and Medium!

If I say medium cut, these guys always go snip-snip for hours like a tortoise and finally show me the same amount of hair I had before I started. Always. Then I say 'Summer cut' and he cuts nearly all of it off, and then I come back home looking like Tom Cruise from Top Gun. No, you Feel like Tom Cruise from Top Gun. What you Look like, is a man whose head got caught under a lawn mower. 

So, yes. That is my debate about expensive salons. Then again, I know there's hygiene, standards, style and everything else in all these fancy salons. But Malabar Saloon had Vividh Bharati. I guess I just miss Malabar Saloon. And the front covers of some magazines. 

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