Back in the good old days, Our family, barring my mom used to head to the saloon for a haircut, which was a monthly routine for us.The saloon was a small structure with an asbestos roof which used to heat up during summers and make a lot of rattling noise in the rains.The place was filled with old tattered film magazines and yesterday's newsapers. It was so dry and dull, the saving grace was a bikini clad Zeenat Aman poster in one corner. We used to stare at it on the sly when our dad was busy with his hair-cut.She was truly amazing and evoked muted giggles from us, we were very small and innocent but Zeenat, somehow enchanted us. The main barber was a dangerous looking Billu, who cut hair humming the old sad songs, being played on the antique radio which required a few taps to get started and played at an annoying volume. The hair cut was a uniform crew cut for all of us, followed by a head massage which included fragrant coconut oil to sooth our small homework worrying minds. Our heads looked similar, when viewed from any possible angle.The crew cut was a long lasting economical cut. It was the signature cut of Billu Barber, who had no other style to offer us. The cut hair was swept and put in a gunny bag for export to foreign countries for making wigs, so they used to say.
Last week, I went to a newly opened swanky hair saloon in a nearby mall. It was a posh parlour where the flooring was shiny white and mirrors all around. A leggy receptionist welcomed me and offered me juice,the sexy hair stylist came and caressed my hair superficially to know the texture and volume of my hair. As I sat on the leather remote controlled chair, soft music started emanating from the hidden speakers on the walls.The plasma screen also sprang to life with music videos of skinny white girls dancing in their skimpy clothes. My hair was treated delicately by the stylist and she cut it with a pair of small scissors slowly. As she finished her work,her colleagues came, saw my hair and appreciated her cut like some work of art.They charged me a whopping sum! I was scanning the floor and I hardly saw any hair on it. I was shocked, as there was no difference in my post cut look.I looked the same old guy who had entered the saloon with a lot of expectations.It was a day light robbery! I returned home with dejection and dissatisfaction.
I was missing my old Billu Barber!
I wanted to see the poster of Zeenat Aman!
Last week, I went to a newly opened swanky hair saloon in a nearby mall. It was a posh parlour where the flooring was shiny white and mirrors all around. A leggy receptionist welcomed me and offered me juice,the sexy hair stylist came and caressed my hair superficially to know the texture and volume of my hair. As I sat on the leather remote controlled chair, soft music started emanating from the hidden speakers on the walls.The plasma screen also sprang to life with music videos of skinny white girls dancing in their skimpy clothes. My hair was treated delicately by the stylist and she cut it with a pair of small scissors slowly. As she finished her work,her colleagues came, saw my hair and appreciated her cut like some work of art.They charged me a whopping sum! I was scanning the floor and I hardly saw any hair on it. I was shocked, as there was no difference in my post cut look.I looked the same old guy who had entered the saloon with a lot of expectations.It was a day light robbery! I returned home with dejection and dissatisfaction.
I was missing my old Billu Barber!
I wanted to see the poster of Zeenat Aman!
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