By AK Harbola
During a hectic week in the town I was visiting, I planned to get a haircut, and decided to explore a bit. The town is a small one; it was morning time, with a number of people preparing to go to work. A few were waiting for e-rickshaws and three-wheelers to proceed towards the industries located on the outskirts. I, too, noticed these factories when I was travelling from the airport to this area. By the way, I had come here to attend a conference on ‘climate change’, being held in a well-reputed university located in the vicinity of a metro.
On enquiring with a passer-by, I found a salon. I saw a big dilapidated flexi board with photos of famous actors, both contemporaries and of the past, in different hairstyles. Impressive, but one doesn’t choose a salon on the basis of flexi boards. I took a call to take a haircut there. It was a two-chair salon, one of them already occupied, and the ‘hair-stylist’ on the job.
I was greeted with a warm welcome, ‘aayiye saheb, haircut lena hai?’. The stylist was a pleasant middle-aged gentleman. I could hear the song, ‘choodi mazaa na degi, kangan mazaa na dega’ playing loudly on the speakers connected with his mobile. I settled down in another chair, and the ‘barber’ started preparing. I had to ask him if he had a clean cloth for wrapping around my neck for the haircut.
‘Sir, baahar se aaye hain?’ he asked and the purpose of my being in his town. During the light conversation, I informed him about the conference and mentioned ‘aane waale chaalis-pachaas saalo main, aadmi ka rehna mushkil ho sakta hai’. ‘Sir, aap kin pachaas saalo ki baat kar rahe hai, aadmi ka jeena to aaj hi mushkil ho raha hai.’ I realised that I had pressed a nerve somewhere, and decided not to agree or disagree with him. ‘Dil kaa aalam main kya bataaon tujhe…was running in the ‘jugaad’ music system. There was a bit of a pause in discussions, and he turned towards his younger looking business partner, asking whether he had a better pair of scissors and a bigger comb to continue cutting my hair.
Could ‘Yusuf bhai’ have married an older girl’ was the topic of discussion between the two partners for the next few minutes before the next song changed to ‘Koyee Haseena jab rooth jaati hai toh’. The other partner turned to me and asked if I had seen the movie ‘Sholay’. On my answering in the affirmative, he asked me if it would have been better had ‘Amjad Khan’ spared ‘Sambha’ and his two colleagues. He also opined that the director of the movie could have done a better job.
The senior colleague among the two re-engaged in conversation. He mentioned ‘some’ Shukla Saheb, whose son recently went to space. He was proud of his connection with the ‘Shuklas’. He also narrated how often the ‘senior Shukla’ used to visit the same salon in Lucknow, where this gentleman learnt the art of hair cutting. In fact, he was the one who gave a haircut to younger Shukla, just before he went for the SSB interview to get into NDA. I could notice a great sense of achievement in his eyes.
‘Sir, should I use a blade or an electric trimmer for side locks?” He had almost completed my haircut, and came back to the starting point of our discussions, climate change. He then followed it up by a story regarding this ‘rogue’ character in his neighbourhood and a ‘Padhan’. (He actually meant someone who had been a Pradhan, an elected representative of the local governance architecture and still has some influence over and around his locality).
The ‘rogue’ has been irritating his neighbours with his nuisances, initially one ‘particular’ neighbour, who kept the environment a bit disturbed. Of late, he started troubling others, too. ‘Padhanji’, initially a friend, almost left him on his own. The ‘rogue’ was generally in check, but as they say ‘old habits die hard’, he kept others around, pricking. In between, he was appropriately slapped by the ‘particular’ neighbour, which calmed down the climate for some time. The rogue has been having consistent problems in his own house regarding finances and internal domestic issues, but did not seem to have mended his ways. Climate kept changing in the area, but as it seemed that the rogue kept a low profile. The Pradhan, out of the blue, invited the rogue over for lunch. That resuscitated the (ill) spirits of the rogue. There was a sudden change in the language and behaviour, and of course in the climate again. The other neighbour, in between, also gave the rogue a mouthful; however, climate remains unpredictable.
The speaker plays another famous song from the movie ‘Don’; ‘arey deewano, mujhe pehchaano, kahan se aayaa, main hoon kaun…
‘Sir, chhodiye, aapko apne muhhalle ki baaton se kyon bore karein? ‘No, please continue. I find your story quite interesting,’ I requested the ‘barber’.
‘Climate seems to have changed again, said he, as probably ‘Padhanji’ has realised the ground realities. “Par saheb, Pradhan saheb ka bhi kuchh bharosa nahi hai, unko gift wagerah pasand hai, unka business bhi hai, chaaploosi bhi pasand karte hain…agar unko apna faayda dikha to climate ek baar fir badal sakti hai.’
My haircut is finished. Prior to clearing my bill, I advised him to be careful of both the ‘rogue’ and the ‘Padhaan’. He said smilingly, ‘Saheb, hamne pachaas saal ke baad aane waale climate ko to theek rakhnaa hi hai, magar abhi muhalle ke climate ko control mai rakhna bhi utna hi zaroori hai.’
‘Ye to public hai ye sab jaanti hai…’was playing on the speaker, and I left the ‘Barber Shop.’
(AK Harbola, is a former Coast Guard Officer. He is currently associated with Rashtriya Raksha University, Gandhinagar, Gujarat.)
