Sonny's haircut long overdue, his hair seemingly of astronomical proportions, I took him to the barbers after months of dilly dallying.
He went in. Seeing me hesitate, the owner, also with hair till his shoulders (poor role model), prodded me in. Sonny, perched high on his seat, the veteran hairstylist began running the electric motor wrrrr...wrrrr
I looked around. Folk began trickling in. I gazed at them, hoping to find one good looking chap. No luck. Just some elderly bhaiyyajis about my age. They slyly stole glances around looking for one good looking female too. No chance.
One fellow began his massage, another his dye. Are they gonna do this till they die?
A little girl sat next to me playing a game on some kind of toy pad. Her dad was in the middle of a rejuvenating back massage.
Sonny kept losing his hair at an alarming rate. I kept stealing glances at him to ensure he didn't quit suddenly.
The T.V mounted on the stand played songs of old.
"Tere bina bhi kya jeena..O sathi re.." from mukkadar ka sikkandar.
Amitabh looked so dashing in his younger days. His trademark hairstyle now so out of fashion. He was singing on stage, his song aimed at Rakhee (fat was 'in' then), with Vinod Khanna staring at her and him intermittently.
The assistants kept stealing glances at the heroines in between snips. Luckily no one lost half a mustache in the process.
Watching their precious locks of hair falling all around, the guys silently cried, 'Tere bina bhi kya jeena', paid up and walked out, swearing under their breath not to come back at least for some months.
Sonny's hair done, money paid, we trooped out.
"I wanted a tuft of hair on top like Tintin's, he didn't let me have" he complained.
