A fortnight
back I had the ignominy of being awarded the wooden spoon in a golf tournament.
For this dubious honor I was given a coupon for a free hair styling at a swish
salon chain. The coupon warned that I must go with prior appointment and was
not valid for weekends.
As I entered
the premises I was overawed by the opulence of the place. The girl at the reception gave me a bright smile
of welcome which vanished when she realized that I was not a paying customer.
She told me that a hair care consultant would soon review my ‘case’. Some
minutes later a man in a white coat and a plastic shower cap on his head came
and introduced himself to me. By now I was suffering anxiety pangs presuming
that I was in a hospital and not a glorified barber shop. I was taken to a
cabin and made to sit on something that looked straight out of a dental clinic.
The
specialist examined my pate and said in a patronizing voice that I would require
Keratin hair treatment followed
later by shampoo therapy and blow-dry. He added that he would throw in a three minute scalp massage that would
increase blood circulation to the head to promote healthy hair and also relieve
tension and reduce stress. Who was I to argue with the voice of authority?
Life was
simpler in my younger days in Delhi. Once a month a barber would come to our
house on his bicycle with a small steel case fixed on the carrier. I would sit
on a metal chair on our back lawn and my father would provide an old white bed
sheet for being wrapped round me. The instruction to the barber would be that I
should get as short a cut as possible. The going rate was 50 paise for children.
As I grew in to my early teens I rebelled against looking like a plucked
chicken and tried my best to persuade the barber to add some style to his
snipping. To no avail. It was embarrassing to go to school the next day with
the sides of my head in shades of light green.
Once I graduated
to hostel life in an engineering college there was some freedom to decide on my
hair style. Obviously to save money I avoided visiting a barber shop till the
day prior to leaving for home for vacations. When I look back at my photos of
that time I realize that my hairstyle was no different to that of The Rolling
Stones and their ilk.
For the last
six years I have settled down to a monthly routine at a haircutting outlet in
Jayanagar. A hair trim is followed by a herbal facial. This is topped off with
a head massage using the same brand of oil endorsed by Big B and Govinda.
This is the
only indulgence in my retired life.
