Haircut Then, Head cut now!

Our reader Brigadier Suryanarayan (Retd.) once again regales us with his trademark humour, this time on moving from a hair cut to a head cut over the years!

Brigadier Suryanarayan

When we were children in Trichy, once a month Dad, as head of the family would decide the Sunday when all the dozen-plus boys: brothers, cousins and nephews of joint family, will visit the thatched-roof-hut of Venkatesa ‘Pandithar‘ (meaning, learned man), en route to Trichy Fort Railway Station where Dad had his restaurant. Yes, no doubt, he was a Pundit of his trade and had a small hand-written board torn off a tea-chest and fixed to a tree, to proclaim his exalted status! A tiff would invariably ensue between men and women of the household: men looking at ‘economies of scale’ and women at the inauspiciousness of all brothers going to a barber together, which is usual only after a parent’s death. But, Father would win!

Though haircut was euphemistically referred to as ‘pattabhishekam‘, meaning coronation, we had only a rough plank to sit and not a throne, and hand over our tiny heads to Pandithar’s expert hands to dress as he liked. Dad’s orders to the barber would always be for a uniform summer-crop for all. Longer hair would invite trouble; that is why I had no problem with ‘fauji‘ hair-cuts later! Pandithar would lose his patience with the ruckus from the others while he was expertly dressing one, thus causing nicks on the victim’s head! It was followed by a bath in the open, under the tap outside the restaurant; hearty breakfast; and roaming in the Railway Institute and Goods Yard till lunch in hot sun. There was one spot in that Institute, from where all three major religions’ symbols — Rockfort, St Lourdes’ Church and the dome of Nather Wali Dargah — could be seen. Unfortunately, that scenery has disappeared due to high rises, as I saw last week after many decades. Mothers would be anxiously waiting to feed lunch, while we would roam freely for 3 more KM right upto Woraiyur to get cigar-humidors for use as pencil boxes.

When we started earning and going to a salon, we began retaining most hair still! I started balding in patches by 35 due to the oily-water of Northeast and near-permanent wearing of berets in the army! Now that I can afford hi-fi salons, I am 80% bald. That is how my daughter invariably teases me: “Appa, are you going for a head-cut” meaning: being bald, I can’t have a hair-cut! I retort saying Meher Jessia, Britney and many actresses choose to shave off their heads for a ‘role’! Four years ago, my then five-year-old granddaughter ran her hand over my pate, asking if God had made me. On hearing yes, she ran her hand on own head and asked if God had made her too? I said yes again. She then asked: “Don’t you think, God is doing a better job these days?“

Once, a PYT after seeing my Lazboy-recliner modelling snap, said: “Uncle, you look distinguished ” and I thought she was making fun!  One reason for my re-growing a big moustache post-retirement is to draw attention away from my shiny pate but earn praises for the mush; that is how I get modelling assignments! A friend of mine with a full head of hair says, ‘if you search the pockets of men, you are likely to find combs in the pockets of all baldies, but only a few in “haired” ones’. I console myself: ‘God made the perfect head, paused and then put hair on the rest’!