Cool Cuts

 

                               

For the last one year I have been anointed the family barber and to be honest have enjoyed the title very much. These lock down days have given me an opportunity to sharpen my hair styling skills.

If my dad and husband requested my services, it was not the case when it came to my son. With him I had to beg, bribe and at times threaten to make him agree to shear off his unruly mane. Then he has always had issues with grooming. The trivialities of civilization like bathing, brushing, combing and changing cloths could hardly find a place in his busy daily schedule of games and play. Let alone setting time apart for trimming nails and getting haircuts.

Hundred Year's War

                                  

  Now when I think of it the histrionics on haircuts has been a long running family saga. I remember the relentless battles and bickering I had with my mom on having my hair cut. It was like the HUNDRED YEARS BATTLE between Britain and France with fortune see-sawing between the two. Contrary to the common belief that the young fashionable girl in 1980s and 90s wanting to go bold with hair cut short it was my mother who desired that look on her daughter. I had a brief period of glory for almost three years when I succeeded in growing my hair long. May be Joan of Arc was there in my camp. My mom, the relentless King of Britain, revived the campaign during the board exams with the old cliché of God punishing the disobedient.

The battle went on and by the time it ended with my ultimate victory of being able to grow my hair, time had flung off. I was by then a mother and having those much coveted long tresses did not seem that sublime anymore!

But I still distinctly remember that evening when I had reluctantly agreed to have one of those haircuts. I was seven years old. It was The Battle of Crécy, the first major engagement of the Hundred Years' War. I was holding my ground firm and could almost smell victory when my mom made a strategic move that caught me off guard.

My big cousin who was in college had come for a visit from her hostel. Witnessing the ongoing battle she offered to mediate. As an only child I did look up at my big sister cousin with admiration and believed in her as a trusted ally. My mom on the other hand had already used her political prowess to gang her on to her side. A dark truth of which I was ignorant at that point of time. Thus a truce was reached between the two camps.

I had only one demand. I should have enough hair to tie. I had been teased by my classmates especially by the boys because of my bobbed hair. They called me various names like,‘mottachi,’’ anu-pennu’ etc. My demand was accepted.

Thus we marched off to the salon, me and my cousin. Obviously I couldn’t go with my mom whom I trusted no more. I sat through the whole event. My eyes welled when strands of curls which once hugged my neck fell on the ground. I felt that the lady of the salon was making my hair too short. But I trusted my cousin. She would never fail to keep her words. How Naïve of Me!

On our way back as promised we went to the shop ‘Trend Setters’ to buy love bands for my hair. I vividly remember the look on the shop keeper's face when we told that it’s for me. Outside the shop I tried to tie my hair. But alas! It was cropped so closely that I couldn’t make a small fountain on top of my head.

Fountain Hair style

                   

I could not bear the betrayal. Without thinking much I bit my cousin on her hand and hung on until we reached home. It created a bright red watch like mark on her wrist. AN INCISORIAL WATCH!!!

I know she would have been taken by surprise by this animal behavior. Even I am! Little did I knew at that time it was the most primitive way of telling her, ‘Et tu, Brute? ‘You too Brutus?’ as the Roman dictator Julius Caesar said at the moment of his assassination, to his dearest friend Marcus Junius Brutus, upon recognising him as one of the assassins.