Since my last return from the US, one thing that stands out and makes me really happy to be in this wonderful land of 8034 religions, 34984093284 opinions and 28 different states is a visit to my local barber shop. A country marked by chaos at every corner, stress at each traffic signal and corruption in every walk of life, refreshingly has an incredible way to salvage its pride by presenting some unique tranquilizing options to its residents.  

You can spend hours in your bath tub drinking an expensive wine to ease of, but ironically, it is the men with knife and scissors that does the trick for me, and I am thrilled to first realise, second admit and then go public about it.  The place I go to is a small air conditioned place close by my house where no one is big or small.  Your turn on the hot seat is purely dependent on the timing of your entry into the shop. You maybe a roadside Jimmy or a crazy flashy kid or an ageing self proclaimed hero, you will get no respite from those highly skilled men performing their art. Call them to book an appointment and they will be least interested at the suggestion. 

Sitting and waiting for your turn can be quite an experience. While you are relaxing and flipping pages of a magazine, the conversations between the barbers and some of the regular visitors are deeply entertaining. The condition of roads in the neighbourhood, growing prices of basic groceries, the performance of national cricket team, and genuine dislike for politicians splitting the country on region and religion are discussed with passion and a lot of sense. The simplicity of their solutions makes me wonder that do we tend to over complicate everything?

In between all this there is some serious hair cutting taking place. On the hot seat you are greeted with a real smile and a cup of ‘masala chai‘.  While he begins to wrap cotton around your neck and an apron around you, you are relaxing and hoping that this cut will be the best you have ever had. In a couple of minutes he figures that you desire a Tom Cruise cut and launches an attack of comb, scissors, knife, machines and whatever he can grab at your head. With utmost precision the cut is completed and my approval is sorted. Next is a head massage with oil, and I call it ‘the real pampering’. It is an ideal way to get the blood circulation gain momentum and relax tight nerves on the head. Don’t mistake this with the head massage that your girlfriend/wife reluctantly agrees to give you and take credit for the same for the next decade, this is the real thing. The experience is so intense and relaxing at the same time, that you are almost asleep by the end of it. 

Next up on the menu is the shave. Gillette mach3 or mach9, nothing can come close to a real barber’s shave. However, I am not big on getting a shave from the barber. I don’t mind the actual shaving part of the process, but the three different rounds of lotions that are applied on my face by those bare hands pre and post the shave does not go well with me. Its an overkill and who knows how did they last eat their Biryani?

On the other side of the Atlantic, in the United States, I must have had more than two dozen visits to the barber shops. As you enter, you are asked for your phone number, which then somehow translates into your cut number. ‘Sir, last time you got a number 4 and it was an excellent choice’. Before you decode those numbers and figure out a cut in your head, the machine is out with a number 4 blade and you can feel it running all over your head. Game, Set and Match .. shell out close to $20 and run towards your car to beat the cold, but more than that beat the entire experience.