November 7, 2011
It was time for hair management before going to the hospital. I am told that the surgical shaving will be done on Thursday. Today was about the excess growth on top of my head. "Since you cannot move out of the house for three weeks, you will look more like a patient with all this hair," Achan transformed into Panini and delivered the logic. So off we went to 'He-needs' men's beauty parlour at Peroorkada junction.
'He-needs' is owned and managed by Babu who has been Achan's acquaintance since the late 90s. When I came to India in 2004, I had availed his services for a haircut and a facial. Vanity days. At that time, his business operated out of a small room in the upper floor of a two-storey building at the junction. Now he has two spacious parlours, one for each sex, operating out of a new building. Babu is one of those businessmen who has understood that lack of expansion is sure recipe of death for business. As time progresses, less and less time and effort are required for the routine job, so unless there is growth, the free time and energy would turn into unproductive and potentially destructive activities, as is to be expected from human nature.
That unfortunate fate has befallen another barber who owns a shop closer to our home. He started the shop with a lot of promise in the early 90s. But after a decade, steady income and bad company, made him an alcoholic. His same old small shop opens two or three times a week these days while Babu has a staff of 4 working under him.
One of those guys was my dedicated hair specialist for the morning. He appeared to be a silent soul. Only his eyebrows were used to indicate that I should get seated. As he was tying the covering cloth over me, the 15 inch television stuck between the two reclining barber chairs, tuned to Sun music, started playing a song from 'Yaaradi Nee Mohini'. Whenever my head tilted towards the TV, he would use both his middle fingers on either side of my forehead to reorient me. Whenever he wanted me to tilt down, both the fingers would be applied close to each other at the middle of my neck from behind. I presume that point is some energy chakra according to yoga because my head down reactions were involuntary.
A straight edge razor folder knife was lying on the sink in front. I tried not to think about the upcoming surgery.
He went about trimming my hair, while some little girl from Kerala called into the TV show. The anchor asked her what her favorite Tamil song was. The song 'kelamal' from Azhahiya Tamil Makan. "Ok, ungalkake oru cute song podareen" (I will play a cute song for you) said the anchor and played "Kangal irandal" from Subramaniapuram. I had a few seconds to wonder what kind of parents allowed little children to call up TV shows and request songs before Thamarai's lyrics completely swallowed my attention. There is indeed something about feminine sensitivity that she has been able to bring to Tamil film songs. Luce Irigaray would be happy to meet Thamarai.
My poetry appreciation could not last long. As long as his client left, the other barber turned the TV to Neo cricket channel to follow the progress of India-West Indies test match. Looking in the mirror, I realized I won't need a haircut for another three months at least. A new customer arrived. Channel went back to Sun music. Song from some new movie I couldn't recognize. The new customer turned out to be a friend of my barber. He was no longer laconic. Conversation flowed, flowered, fruited.
"Dei, Shibu ravile varanathu kandala, ninakku paisa thanna?" (I saw Shibu come this morning, did he give you any money)
"Oh thannu thannu, nooru roopa" (Yea, he gave, 100 rupees)
"Helmet okke vachu bikil varana kandu"(I saw him come on a motorbike wearing a helmet)
"Kashu tharan onnum alla, kandathu kondu thannu. thonnumbu anpatho nooro tharum."(he didnt come to pay. Just because he saw me, he paid. whenever he feels like it, he gives 50 or 100 rupees)
"bhayankara gap party thanne, aliya. masam anpatho nooro kittiyittu enthu cheyyan?" (he is a fraud. what is the use of getting 50 or 100 a month?)
"randayirathi anjooru roopa vangichittu masam pathayi" (It has been 10 months since he borrowed 2500 rupees from me)
"matte sojanum ninakku kashu tharan ille?" (Even Sojan owes you money, right?)
"Ondedei, pakshe avantathu njan avante vandi vadakayil pidikum. ini ippo kalyanathinu ottam ulathale" (Yea, but I will adjust that from his vehicle rental. I will be renting his car for the upcoming marriage)
"Neeyum kanakku thanne" (You are shrewd and fit for them)
There is a huge section of the Indian population for whom 2500 rupees really matters. Yesterday Amma was telling me that her starting salary at the Reserve Bank of India was Rs 700. Achan said his was around Rs 500. At that time one 'pavan' (8 grams) of gold was around Rs 15. This was 1975. Major chunks of this country are still at that income level though the same amount of gold now costs Rs 20,000.
Once my sideburns were trimmed, we paid and went to the Margin-free shop nearby to buy Dettol and toothpaste. Extrordinarily long queue at the single check-out point of the small shop. Achan joined the queue while I went outside the shop to look around. More shops on the other side of the narrow road.
To the far left a tile roofed, old, single storey building with "ladies stitching center" written vertically in Malayalam with black paint on the side of the door niche.
Next to it, an electrical appliances shop.
Right across from the margin-free shop, two two storey buildings housing a variety of businesses: Mango money financial services, a pharmacy of "English" medicines, another gents beauty parlor (which is the new default name of barber shops), a tailoring center for men and women. A man was test driving his newly stitched light gray trousers.
A computer hardware and repair shop.
A special tuition center for physics, chemistry and mathematics.
A teenage girl was shopping something from the "English" medicine shop. From her dress, it was obvious that she stayed very close by. When she paid and left, the bald shopkeeper kept his gaze on her for an uncomfortably long time. He seemed ashamed that I had noticed. He was deeply interested in newspaper after that.
My second youngest uncle and cousin were waiting when we reached home. Cousin had dropped his daughter at her friends home for some "combined study". "I don't know how much studying happens, but friendships are important at this age," he said. Before lunch our discussion was mostly about pollution. Indian Express newspaper had dedicated an entire supplement today about e-waste management which is practically non-existent in the city. Uncle talked about visiting factories in Bhilai and seeing adulterants being added to the common spice powders. I recalled how significant quantities of toxic adulterants were detected in Laxmi brand of curry powders while they were tested in the US.
"I don't get many opportunities to have lunch with two nephews," uncle said before we sat down to eat.
Post lunch, the discussion turned to godly miracles. The statue of Virgin Mary in a church nearby has started crying. Not loudly. Tear like stains have appeared on the sides of both the eyes. TV news showed a substantial crowd of women weeping to express their solidarity with her. We laughed about the sensational "miracle" of Hindu idols drinking milk back in the 90s. "Milk had become so costly then," uncle said. People were rushing to feed the stone idols while malnourished children died by the dozen daily in each state.
As the first major Sabarimala pilgrimage season after the discovery of Padmanabhaswami temple's treasure trove is just around the corner, Thiruvananthapuram city is about to suffer an onslaught of heavy duty devotion. How can the pilgrims leave Kerala without visiting the richest god in the world? The district of Pathanamthitta, where Sabarimala is, has been declared plastic free. So all the bottles, cans and plastic bags making the holy trip from Tamil Nadu and Andhra should find themselves dumped around Padmanabhaswami temple. Padmanabhaswami already sleeps on top of a mountain of gold worth over $22B accumulated over several centuries. Managing a mountain of plastic that'll accumulate in a few years, may be easy for him.
There was news today that impressed with the Himachal Pradesh police's policy of dropping the surname/caste name of its members, Kerala and Tamil Nadu are looking to implement the same. Not mentioning caste would be a small step towards fighting this immortal demon that plagues this society. Just this morning I was chatting with a friend in the US.
"What caste are these Reddy people?" she asked.
Born and brought up north of the Vindhyas, she was, naturally, unfamiliar with the subdivions of 'Madrasi' people. Before I could tell her that they seemed to be a group of their own, she said, "I hope they are not the SC ST types".
A blatantly racist remark from a so-called highly educated Indian youth. These are the same people who would cry 'racism' at the drop of a hat if they don't like the way they are treated in the US.
"That is a racist remark" I told her.
"Yea, I know, that is what my parents are."
"Shame!"
No amount of government reservations can fix the society as long as a heritage of racism is proudly passed on at home.
Once again, it rained heavily in the evening....equally on all homes in the area, not bothering about the caste of the inmates. If only it could wash off the cataract of caste from the diseased eyes!
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