Our Neighbourhood Saloon

When Raju opened his ultramodern hairdressing saloon, it was really a big event for our small town. The saloon was perfectly furnished and packed with talcum powders, after-shave lotions, dyeing crèmes and the like.Coloured blow-ups of scantily clad actresses adorned the upper portions of the walls. On the tables lay many film magazines--old and new.
Keeping with the décor of the saloon, Raju was clad in the latest jeans. His long locks fell over his ears unto his shoulders and a coloured scarf hung from his neck in the manner of his favourite film star. Young though he was, he was really superb in his craft. He could have a half an hour’s operation on the crop of your hair and could make a very ugly face a handsome one. Besides he had different styles for different occasions. If you were going to face an interview, he would give your hair a nice oil bath and give it a sound back- brush. If you were going to see your fiancée, he would shampoo your hair and dry it to give you a classic Romeo look. You just tell him the occasion and he would run his imagination along your hair. No wonder, Raju had a big clientele.
The latest acquisition in Raju’s shop was a cassette player. We knew Raju was a great lover of music. He always used to hum a tune while his hands worked with the scissors. We all welcomed the change because we could then hope to have a nice music time at Raju’s saloon.
Raju had cassettes of old as well as new film songs. When any old song in the classic strain such as “Jalte hen jiske liye” was played, Raju’s hands, with the scissors, would move with the slow rhythm of the song. And well, you could resign yourself to it for one full hour till the cassette on one side was fully exhausted of the songs and the sound ceased on the auto-stop. But if any modern number of Himesh Reshmiya or any western pop was played,Raju’s scissors ran merrily dancing along your hair, achieving a glorious haircut within just a couple of minutes.
That day early in the morning as I entered into the saloon, the recorder was blaring out a Michael Jackson number.Annoyed, I asked,”Raju, what’s this cacophony?”
Raju replied with a smile, “Sir, this is pop. These songs are craze in big cities. I have borrowed the cassette from a friend. You will like it, sir.”
I knew I would not like it. But I was happy that the rhythm of the song was very fast and I could confidently look to a quick haircut.
He carried on as I browsed through an old film magazine. The seductive photographs of the film heroines and the spicy gossip about their private lives kept me absorbed.
It was quite sometime before I finished the magazine.Raju’s fingers were still pressing the scissors on my head. I was a bit surprised for I thought that with the fast rhythm of the song, my haircut should have been finished by that time.
I threw the magazine on the table and looked up at the mirror to find Raju profusely sweating with the scissors at my back. He held and swayed his scissors just as a pop singer would hold a guitar on the stage. He seemed to belong to a different world even while he was clipping my hair. And to my horror I found that within this time he had completely minced my hair. I came for a side-dressing and now my glorious crop of hair was gone! In its place were small twigs, as one would find it in a freshly harvested field, and I looked no better than a criminal or a joker.
Desperately I cried out, “Raju, stop.” But Raju was simply in no mood to listen. His body was frenziedly swaying from left to right and his fingers, with the scissors, were gleefully dancing on my head. Seeing no way out, I made a dive towards my left where the cassette recorder was kept and pressed the ‘Stop’ button.
The song stopped abruptly and so did Raju’s fingers. His trance broke and he looked at me helplessly. I demanded in anger, “What have you done to my hair?”
Raju, like a guilty child, implored, “Sir, Sir…”
I knew there was no way to salvage my state of hair. I asked, “Raju, please do one thing. Make a polished shave of all my hair. That way I’ll look like a Buddhist monk, but no more like a crook. Or if some one asks, I can take the plea of a death in the family.
Raju had no way but to oblige me.


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