Lintu, Deepak and Shashi 

Hair Cuts in Mumbai!

Haircuts in Mumbai. It is a special thing, where all you have to do is go in, gesticulate vaguely when asked to choose between a haircut or a shave, leaving it to the barber and his discretion to do what he will, coz it usually will be a Sunday and you will be in need of both a shave and an hair cut.

You plonk down on the chair and then he ties a nice, clean(if you are lucky) apron/bed sheet thingy around your neck. Water your hair to make it grow longer for the one final mm before he consecrates it to the clean(again fate’s intervention required) floor. Then it is the comb and sickle treatment to the proud growth. After finishing with whatever style and length is best suited to his mood of the day, he will stop tilting your head this way and that. Then will come the process that usually signifies the end of the shortening process and indicates the finishing up of your hair style for the fortnight/month. Bringing out of the Razor. He will slide the old half blade out and put in a fresh one, a swab of Dettol (need I say anything about fortune, luck, destiny etc.?), wet your nape and the side burns and scrape away. He will critically, squinting to measure the length of your hair, make a few scrapes (none too gentle, sharp blade, indelicate hands, lead to nicks all the time) and you are ready to admire your new do.

Out comes the back mirror and your gracious permission/admiration is asked for . This is the last chance for you to get something nicked and tucked, because after the mirror there is no turning back. Then with a flourish he will bring a powder puff , that lies resting on a cup full of ponds or whatever talc has the flavor of the month and vigorously starts brushing the hair off sundry facial parts. Then after all the brushing down of most of the hair cuttings off the apron/sheet, will come the best part. The massage. Surprisingly, the self same hands that give you the nicks, feel great while pounding your head all over the place. It seems like a family secret, that is passed down from barber to barber. Because, I have been to a couple or more barbers and all of their styles are different. If someone prefers the “crooked knuckle over the wet hair” then, there will always be someone from “Straight fingers, steepled over straight head, wetness of the hair notwithstanding” school of massage.

Then with a flourish he will untie the sheet and with a smile bring you back to your feet. He will give you a couple of minutes to critically admire his art. So, you pick the comb up and turn your hair this way and that, while he looks on, sagely giving advice and helpful tips.

The most important part of the hair cut is the conversation,because the barber is the notice board of the neighbourhood. He will ask about your family and how they all are doing. Then the local politics, his family and how proud he is of them. A son in college, a daughter in Med school. He would ask advice on whether he should make his son join a coaching class, because on his income it is a serious investment.

There is always something that draws you in and makes you want to come back to the self same shop time after time. Like his hospitality, when he is busy with another customer and he smiles and asks you to wait, ordering a cuppa for you. I usually do not drink tea, but am never able to refuse or pay.

My barber just left and went back to Gujarat, where his children are. Now in their twenties both are getting settled and wanted their parents with them. I would not even have come to know of it, what with me being out of town for a while and not having an haircut for about three months. I just finished a session with him, my hairs shorter and heart a little heavier, coz now I will have to go to one of those ‘modern’ saloons, where they seem to specialize in fifteen minute hair cuts for fifty bucks.

Good bye dear man, may Gujarati hair fall with the same grace to your scissors like mine did.

Vibhu.

Guess? 

Me at Kaup! 

Marathi Manus!

Imagine an Industrial area..brings to mind images of factories and sheds, all spewing smoke and effluents into bleak desolate areas, set far away from urban centers. Now cut to Paithan in Aurangabad.. its set far away all right, about two hours bus journey from the main city/town (call Abad what you will, after Mumbai, almost all other cities seem like towns, except maybe for Delhi and Kolkatta).. Got off the State Transport bus, and looked around, it was spooky..green fields, groves upon groves of eucalyptus trees, crisp air, none of the odors or sounds associated with such areas. No chemical smog trying insidiously to strangle you or take a few years off your life, maybe make you impotent or infertile(wot can I say I have a 'fertile' imagination).

So, scared and disoriented by my travel into 'Swades' land, I walk up to the Paan Shop that is bang opposite the stop and standing guard over the main junction leading into the Area. The guy actually smiles looking at me, not the smirk you usually associate with Paan wallahs in Mumbai, usually a cross between a leer and a frown,bespattered with red betel juice..This guy just lit up like I was ambani or something giving him the paan wala contract for the rest of his life for one of my factories or something. Well that smile made me lose my cynicism a little and I grinned back and asked him in Marathi about some of the companies I had to visit. His grin just got wider and he gave me detailed and precise details to all of the addresses. Then he added the score, good news that 4 paki wickets had fallen in the first fifteen overs of the match (India visiting Pak, in case you are out of touch). I just had to buy something then, so got a bottle of water and when I peered in the collect my change, he was actually raising his dabba and plonking it on the counter and asking me to dig into his breakfast! That was a first in a long long time. What can I say Maharashtra is just great! I declined, thanked him and walked on.

I visited the client and all, took me about two hours, so it was about 12 noon when I came out of the building. This is where it got really spooky... not a soul in sight. No rickshaws, no bikes, no nothing. So, what to do, but get walking. The sun was at its zenith, like it is wont at 12 . I shrug off the heat, the Iron man that I am and keep walking. I counted fifteen cows at this stage and keeping in mind my last encounter, I gave a friendly moo to them, to my utter delight they walked off. To really convince that my love affair with inquisitive cows had really ended, i went close to a male calf(do we genderify young cows?) and it skittered away. Hallelujah, bovine love lost. Can mo'oo've on with my life now as a city slicker.

Then I walked some more. The heat was not so easily shruggable now. It was like Helios was really not very pleased with my disdain for his Zenithed rays, so was sending them down with increased vengeance. Then I felt that the human body is made up of 70% or so of water, because I was feeling lighter and my steps were not landing with the same force on the ground. The scientist in me rationalised that about 60% must have turned in to steam and made me in to the human airship i was feeling like. The engineer in me rationalised that the only water evaporating was from my brain, cos I was letting the scientist do the thinking! Then, I hear bells tinkling behind me. Loudly and in tandem. I turn around and what do I see? Two bulls, just like the ones in our ninth grade Geography workbooks pulling a cart. The cart driver was a beturbaned son of the soil. I looked at him and he smiled, whats with these maharashtrians and their smiles, huh? They do it all the time out here. It is great to see. Then he asked me to hop in and asked where I wanted to go. I told him and he actually went out of his way to drop me there. We got talking, and he wanted to know all about the weather in Mumbai and was it any better than here. He was actually also interested in the score, so called mom long distance and updated him. Boy was he happy! He actually invited me home to lunch with him!!!! I was getting lucky with smiles and lunches today..never usually do. But, duty called and had to respectfully decline. Then the company gate came up. I got off the cart and walked up to the security cabin and you should have seen the expression on the gaurds face!

Well then to end it, I met the client. He was heading towards the junction, so dropped me off till the bus stop and what do I see, my paan wallah friend smiling and offering me tea and biscuits! Do wonders never cease? But then my trax came; it is a multi people carrier. We were fourteen in a vehicle supposed to carry eight. Got to the city all crushed. Had a lively discussion whether India would win the match or not, since none of us really knew the score, being patriotic and all, argued that India will win. If this keeps on, my marathi is sure going to improve.

The gods must be happy with me, because pretty soon came upto the hotel and turn the telly on and what do I see, Suresh Raina pulling Imran Farhat for four and cinching the match!!

Well do wonders never cease?

I’ve been Murphied!

Well every one has an off day once in a while. Its normal and without which we fool hardy ,men and women of Mumbai might start disbelieving in Karma and the Mumba Devi. But sometimes even Mumba devi can take it to extremes. Here’s what happened to me one fine January day. It started off all nice and easy going, with me in the arms of my beautiful girlfriend, when suddenly I realized that the irritating noise that was there in the background was not her talking, but my alarm clock ringing, which alarmingly had stopped. Man was I late! I woke up with a start and the cheery sun was already shining through the windows. Oh Mumba, how I distrust days that start with the cheery sun already beaming down on me, trying to set me up for the great sucker punch of life.

Muttering and cursing, I readied myself to face the vigor’s of the day ahead. Then it hit me, I have to travel at least 50 kms today to meet the client and on top of that have to travel back to office and give a demo to another client who was visiting me. I said to myself, not a serious setback, will go to Taloja (the far off place) put my foot down and ask the client to make some decisions and payments and hurry back to the office, be my normal efficient, ebullient self and sell another piece of machinery and hence end the day with the bang. Well as is usually the case with these days, little did I know. Somehow schedules are followed (at least in Mumbai) by rigorously avoiding a time table. It seems that the city and its atmosphere takes a perverse joy of not letting you stick to your programme when you have planned for it.

I had made the trip a million times before and never had any issues, but this day had to be different. I made it to Taloja in one piece, a little late but not irrevocably so. Met with the client and had the discussion and the foot putting down and all. He asked me to join him for lunch, which I had to very politely refuse even though was famished, to keep to my schedule. Then I left. Was saying to myself, so far so good, just another four hours to go and then I am home free.

Taloja being Taloja is a huge place and very irritating to walk in the noon day sun. So when I espied a gaggle of village belles carrying what seemed like a bunch of sticks on top of their heads, through an unused plot of land on the opposite end of which I could see the main road, I made an executive decision. Me, Vibhu, will also take the selfsame shortcut. So, I navigated through the weeds and crossed the plot. The belles were giving me strange looks when I crossed them, but I attributed it to my good looks and great personality(maybe they were more in tune with the Great Mumba‘s feelings). At this moment the road was looking very close and I was congratulating my self at my innate ability to reduce my walk load by being smart about opportunities. Something about the eagle eyes of Vibhu not missing the slightest detail in the environment and drawing correct work saving conclusions from it was also passing through my brain(little did I know that heightened perception coupled with sub standard intelligence is double edged sword, gifted by the great Mumba, when she’s bored and wants to have some fun).

Just before the road, I saw a ditch. Dried out one, with the characteristic cracks on the surface that have embodied drought in our nation for centuries now. I was thinking, a short cut in time, leads to stitches nine(some powerful God was trying to warn me, before being shooed away by Mumba, who did not want any one to spoil her game) So I decided to cross over. Fool, should I have not made sure that the ditch was actually dry enough to support a full 83 Kilos of Male muscle? And me in my favorite shoes, comfortable and formal. So what do you think happened? The first step I took into the ditch and sploosh my foot went right in. What with the momentum and confidence of my motion, I got imbalanced and had to move the other foot too. So, sploosh goes the other foot. Now both my feet are in the mud, that I perceive (with my heightened perception)has a distinct aroma. I try to extricate myself from this quagmire and so what happens? My foot lifts clean out of my favorite shoe! Now, I am balancing like a heron on one foot, with one stockinged feet hanging in the air. Thank fully I have watched my complement of Kung Fu movies and also, not to mention the Karate Kid, where he uses the same stance against the bigger, meaner and mightier opponent. So somehow I manage to keep my balance and then insert it gingerly back in to the shoe and work the shoe out. I get to the other side, the two shoes ruined and the bottom of my pants coated with slush (God knows what was flowing through that ditch, being an industrial estate, I could only hope that my clothes did not disintegrate after drying out or while being wet for that matter).So I plonked down on the side of the road, trying to clean my self up. Using sticks, stones and papers to remove the thick, gooey coating on my clothes and shoes, when suddenly I feel a wet muzzle on my ear. I turn around and what do I see? A pair of big horns and eyes looking at me, very fondly I believe. It was a herd of cows, who had crossed the road and were investigating me very keenly. I will admit that I like cows as much as the other person, they give us milk, keeps our villages warm during the long, cold winter nights and all, but this was the ultimate limit. I tapped on her forehead and made shooing noises, but I think my ditchy aroma must have aroused in her an acute feeling of home sickness for her stall, so she started pushing me back. Then her calves and friends joined in the fun, trying to eat the papers I was using to clean myself up. I was literally surrounded by these three four cows. When you are standing, a herd of three or four cows does not seem much, actually you do not even think of them as a herd. You just pluralize them and move on. But, when you are on your ass, trying to get goo off your self, then even a couple seem to loom over you. The only thing left to do was to raise myself on my two feet and make them believe that I was a human, a lord and master and not some strange, sickly looking cow. So I heaved to and stood up, it was remarkable what a difference it makes. A single pat and shoo was enough to send them plodding away. If I ever change careers, will definitely research the affect of posture and position on the effect of shooing of bovine animals.

Well then, to cut things short, got myself cleaned up. Got a company gardener to hose me down. Caught a train to go home, when I got a call from the client who was asking me why I was not at the office giving him the demo… And the day never ended. Went in at full trot, was only a fifteen minutes late. Gave him the full benefit of my extensive vocabulary and had convinced him to buy the damned thing. But no, the great Mumba is thorough if anything. My esteemed colleague had not loaded it properly and the contents spilled. Ruining the demo for all posterity. At least the client was understanding and gave me his card and invited me to his ice cream parlor. A small consolation after this great day. (I think the great Mumba always rewards whoever has pleased her in strange ways, but then it can also be my other patron deity who was so ignominiously shooed away)

Thank fully, The Great Mumba retires after seven o’clock and I got home in one piece.

Vibhu