Snip, Snap, Swoon

I am yet to come across a dog that is badly in need of a haircut. And by ‘dog’ I mean the entire gamut – starting from your run-of-the-mill, piss-on-the-hill street mongrel of debatable breed right up to the other end of the bark-spectrum that includes the thoroughbred micro-miniature Chihuahua. And its not just dogs for that matter - sheep, lizards, tapirs, ant-eaters, sea-gherkins… – every single species of the animal kingdom lives in a state of peaceful equilibrium with the hair that nature has prescribed for it. Barring man, of course.

Hair is one of the biggest hair-raising issues facing the human society. Right down the ages, (barring the primitive days when Adam, Eve and Co. frolicked along in hirsute happiness), hair has been amongst the greatest challenges to man’s determination. Grown locks and the associated road blocks are so many that even the stodgiest souls have had to finally cut the crap. Andre Agassi won gazillion hearts with his blonde bangs, but was eventually harried into de-hairing himself before Steffi Graf came calling. Similarly, even a man as desperate to differ as David Beckham was eventually distressed to the point of de-tressing. The odd exception to the rule has valid reasons for sporting long hair. For instance, Michel Jackson hardly finds the time for hair care in the midst of his hectic nose-job schedule. T.Raajendhar versatility in the film world (actor, director, producer, co-producer, musician, lyricist, stunt man, light boy, dandanakka, danakku nakka) puts matters of appearance on the back burner and that explains his hair-do (or hair-don’t, as one close friend chooses to put it).

To put it in short, man likes to keep it short. Going by the natural economic law of supply and demand, one would expect a large number of good barbers, hair dressers and saloons to flourish in the hairy world. Strangely and sadly, that is not the case. And when I say this, I speak for a healthy majority of the Chennai male populace.

The dreaded day springs upon you each month; you look into the mirror and find that your hair is actually growing in front of your eyes – a mini eco-system on your head with black orchids, creepers and tendrils creeping over you foreheads; dark and foreboding clouds hanging menacingly over the ears; and stalactites (or is it stalagmites?) drooping down over your collar onto your back. Its time for a hair cut.

It’s amazing how almost all of my hair cut days have been bad hair days. It begins with the fact that you actually have to wait in a queue for your turn. Early birds enjoy the rare privilege of getting a bad haircut before you do, even as you rehearse your instructions for the barber in your mind. (‘Reasonably long and level in front; ‘machine’ the back and the sides, and leave it ‘natural’ in the back..)

For the uninitiated: Welcome to the Hair Cutters Guide to the Call Taxi. Two new terms you need to know in order to continue reading this hairticle:

Machine: A tool normally used to fleece the wool off a sheep; also finds use with hopeless barbers who can’t do a decently level cut with scissors and comb alone. A lot of hairy patrons actually ask for the ‘machine’ in order to avoid getting an ignominious scissor cut. Machines may be hand operated or electric. The hand operated one can do serious damage to your flesh if wrongly administered, while the latter can give you a shock. In spite of such perks, machine cuts come at a throw-away flat rate of Rs.30.

Natural: This refers to the job done on the back of your head, just above the neck. To leave it ‘natural’ means to leave it alone, so that at least one portion of your new hairstyle is not brutalized by the barber’s barbarism. If you fail to ask for a ‘natural’ (and by ‘ask’, I mean repeating it some 5 to 8 times in your loudest voice once he takes the blade in his hand, until he gives you a written agreement that he will leave it natural) he will give you a square cut in the back, that will make you look like a character straight out of Dilbert.

So, there I am – its time for my haircut cum shave. I describe the style I expect in great detail to the barber who takes it all in with a nod of the head and finally says, “You mean, the usual, Saar?” It’s funny that he asks this, because this is what I usually ASK him and this is NOT what I eventually end up with. I mention this idiosyncrasy to my man who with a non-chalant swipe of the comb says, “Never mind Saar, this time Rajni style for you.” I resign to my fate – there is little you can do when this is all this guy understands from my earnest requests for a decent trim.

He goes on to make a mess and a mockery of the cut. What he fashions out of my none-too-impressive head is diametrically opposite to what I wanted him to do. I asked him for machine level 1, he has done scissors (“No current saar, Maseenu work avaadhu”). I asked him for an Aamir Khan spike, he’s given me a porcupine finish. Needless to add, I fell on his feet and pleaded for a ‘natural’, he’s given me a square cut (Ada! Enna saar neenga?! This is latest Vijay style saar!). And finally, I asked him to cut the hair over my ears, he’s cut my ears. (Which is actually good, since I’d fallen asleep midway through the massacre and this sure did wake me up.)

Thank goodness for the shaving grace or there would be absolutely no incentive for visiting this guy at all. It must be mentioned here that, it is VERY tough to botch up a shave, unlike the haircut. In spite of the inherent difficulties of doing a bad shave, most barbers do succeed in their tireless efforts to achieve mediocrity and on an average, one in thousand customers end up with slit throats. As a mark of respect to these brave, unfortunate souls, all barber shops remain closed on Tuesdays.

I stagger out into the open and feel like pulling out the rest of my hair as well. It’s a vicious circle that catches you over and over again – today my friends will have a hearty laugh seeing the comedy show that is my head. But then, I’ll have my chance to get back at them… some day… except Tuesday. Looking at it objectively, there is only one way out of this hair-splitting issue:

A visit to Tirupati.