Hair Cuts.

What is it about hair cuts that drives men into becoming positively poetic? Last week it was Conrad with a video about his hair cut and this week it is Sandeep with a nostalgic post on his old barber shop.

Our good friend Maynard in the meanwhile has been sending me photoshopped photographs showing me with long hair which makes me look like a Rastafarian and persuades me to grow my hair long or in the alternative get a wig(?)

Personally, a hair cut for me is just a chore to be got over with as quickly as possible. There is a very comfortable saloon just across the road from where I live and a visit there once in a couple of months is more than adequate. I go in, have a hair cut, around the rim as there is hardly anything on top anyway, have a nice shoulder and head massage and am out in fifteen minutes at the most.

For the past ten years, the barbers there have been trying to persuade me to get my beard trimmed and dyed by them, with the promise that I will be made to look like either a Mughal king or a film star of my choice. I have resisted the temptation as I prefer to trim it myself when the mood takes me. The idea of dying my beard is totally unappealing though I see other men getting it done in the saloon.

When in the saloon however, I see many sights that are to say the least fascinating. For some one as old as I am, at least they are novel. There are guys there getting facials done, their hair and beards dyed, eye brows trimmed, hair shampooed etc and spend much more time than I do. There are also fathers and/or mothers who come in with young boys who publicly quarrel about what kind of a hair cut the child must have and spend more time pacifying the child than the barber spends cutting hair. There are men with long hair, no hair and all kinds of other hair who keep looking at themselves and preening after the job is done and while waiting for the change to be made for the big notes given. I believe that the men having facials etc are called metrosexuals. Quite what that implies beats me!

A friend of mine retired from service in 1989. Since that day, he has not gone to a hair cutting saloon. He uses a gadget which is just a razor blade sandwiched between two combs with a handle.

When he combs with that, lots of hair just gets shaved off and he believes that it is good enough for him. He looks quite elegant if somewhat professorish. I wish I had enough hair to be able to do that and be professorish. As Jean so aptly calls me, I look like a Panda and that is good enough for me.

After I had written this post, I came across this wonderful present that a man offers his beloved for Valentiene’s day. How romantic!

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