Maximum Meanness

My life is interesting - because I get to see new people every day. Different types of people. Each day is a different day for me, although it seems that the routine is the same. One would think that every day would turn out the same, and this is what I think too every morning. But then, there is always something that happens which changes the whole course of the day, which in the end, turns out differently. Sometimes, it is boring – a day just like another; or sometimes, full of drama, because somebody had shown their dissatisfaction to my shifty owner – which I kind of enjoy. Giggles. Yes, it gives me immense pleasure to see the most mean-spirited person being insulted by his own customers, in front of his employees. It entertains me. Perhaps, later on, I shall explain why, but hopefully, you decipher that on your own.

Among the crowded city, bustling with the daily vibrant energy of its people who are starting their day, I now hear the sound that I despise the most – the opening of the barbershop roller shutter door. And it all begins! As a fat belly cast a shadow into the dim light, I watch straight from where I am: placed overnight in the long cylinder-shaped flask, full of water mixed with some sort of disinfectant. Pftttt. My sharp steels legs soak the whole night while the upper part of my body remains dry and untouched. Can you imagine the discomfort that I go through every night?

Suddenly, there is light everywhere. I feel the warm breeze walk in and gently brush my face. Perhaps the only good thing that ever happens every morning! Finally, some fresh air. The outside bustling city noise is more audible now. I hear the same, every morning: the cars honking for no reason; the rickshaws look like they will all collide into each other; the schoolboys chasing after their daily bus so they won’t miss school; the hungry formally-dressed customers lining desperately at the famous chaiwala - a jargon they use to refer to the man who brews and sells tea in the morning, at the junction corner, right across the barbershop. Don’t they have tea at home? Apparently, it’s not the morning lateness or the painstaking process of making it. It’s the taste. I heard that once when one of the customers came to enjoy a nice haircut here. He praised the tea so much that my greedy owner couldn’t resist but get a glassful, after their conversation.

“Newspaper! Take your daily newspaper!”, yells the ‘paperboy’ as he throws the rolled-up newspaper that lands inside the barbershop. Bansi, one of the apprentice stylists who just joined last month quickly runs to pick it up. He hands it to my short, chubby owner, who happens to be “just” sitting in his usual spot.

Doing nothing. He does nothing but gives orders to people! And….and is always up for the easiest haircut so he gets all the credit!

“Go get my tea!”, says my owner as if he cannot care less.

“Yes, Sir”. Bansi replies quickly, already heading out of the door, even before Raza completes his sentence. Seriously? I would raise an eyebrow at that…if I had one.

Yes, my owner’s name is Raza. And the well-known salon’s name is Cutting Edge, by Raza. Cutting Edge? I laugh at that! Terribly. No, really. Does Raza even know the meaning of cutting edge? Sometimes, I am glad that I don’t have a mouth. I can only hear and listen. The only noise I make is when one of the stylists or even Raza uses me to trim or cut. I feel blessed I cannot talk. Probably angry Raza would have thrown me out of the window by now if I could talk; just like he disposes of my friends when their blades become blunt or when they have a rusty pivot point. But for now, I was in my prime. Ha! With shiny blades, a smooth pivot point, strong handles, and finger rings, I am in perfect health. But was I in perfect hands? I loathe my owner’s characteristics.

I watch silently, as Raza grabs the tea from Bansi, in an ungrateful manner. He puts his glasses on, with so much effort and opens his arms wide, holding the newspaper, in an attempt to read after performing his daily prayers. The small salon is filled with the familiar fragrance of the incense. The usual stingy smell. Sandalwood. Would you even change the incense smell Raza? Maybe one that smells more expensive? Or one that will attract more customers?

Outside, I can now hear a calm city, with an aloof buzz in the distance. Probably most people have reached work by now! But here, that’s when the business starts.

A middle-aged man, wearing grey pants and a green shirt that looks so used, walks in. “Can you do a clean shave?” He looks at Raza.

“Manoj! Come quick and attend to this gentleman.” Raza lifts his head up to look at the customer for the first time. “And that will cost you one hundred and fifty rupees,” he says, after having a long slurping sip of his tea. Why can’t you just take a sip, Raza? Rude! I keep on watching, in disgust.

“Hundred and fifty? How come you are charging more here?” answers the man.

Raza stares at the man, who now wants to walk out but looks at his watch and instantly realizes he is late. “Hundred and fifty. Take it or leave it!”

The man sits with a big sigh, and Manoj quickly puts his apron on. He ties the smelly black cape around the customer’s neck and he starts, being as gentle as he can. After the session that seemed to be a never-ending one, the frustrated but satisfied customer rises from his seat. He takes a good look at himself in the mirror and is glad to see his new clean face. He gives a brief smile to Manoj who now starts cleaning the used space and walks to make the not-so-satisfying payment to Raza. I am still not used at this point. But I know my turn will come soon.

It is now almost midday. The sun is at its peak and that is how I can tell that it is going to be a hot afternoon. I can see people rushing around, calling for taxis and running around for food, during their lunchtime while others scrounge for it. Two very young men, who seem to be on their break from work, walk in. Omigod! Now it is my turn for sure.

“What can I do for you?”, asks Manoj, in his usual quiet but welcoming tone, while looking at the two and hoping they are both seeking some sort of service. Poor Manoj has been assigned with the task of attracting more customers to make a profitable business. Raza does not want to hear, at no cost, that his salon has not made more than the previous day’s earnings. He wants more and more and more and more each day and grins if the earnings do not exceed the previous day’s. But Raza does not help. Why should he? He is the owner. He sucks the life out of these two poor chaps who work for him. I watch everything, every single day. If he does get up, it is only for the easiest haircut – for the rich or the famous, to get some sort of acknowledgment or a generous tip. And that too, because they are satisfied with the cut I give them. The day my blades decide to work the other way round, Raza will get the biggest surprise of his life. I hate the way he just throws me, with disrespect, on the table, after using me!

After a short discussion with the two young men, who now seem content with what they want, Manoj asks them to sit, facing the big mirror that Bansi has just cleaned. Both Bansi and Manoj now get to work. They start by tying the black cape around the customers’ neck and grab the tools they need. Both gentlemen want a nice haircut. And here I go! My blades have to follow my friend, Comb’s patterns. Comb lifts up and straightens the wet hair and I snip. Again, lifts and straightens, I snip. Lifts and straightens, and snip. Lifts, straightens and snip, snip snip, snip. Dude! My sharp blades work like a charm. Only, with good people like Bansi and Manoj though, for they work so hard until late evenings. You would think they are getting their fair share. No! Raza is a parasite. Raza doesn’t allow them to go on a break for more than fifteen minutes. Raza doesn’t even pay them accordingly. So… their life is hard. I believe, harder than mine. At least, I just get to be in the water-filled flask and watch.

While the two young men are enjoying their head massage after the haircut, another older man walks in. Old enough to be Raza’s age. Again, Raza does not even look at the customer. I am placed again in my usual spot. I did a great job, by the way.

“Yes, Sir,” Manoj calls from where he is standing – behind the sink and giving the most satisfying head massage to one of the young men. “What can I do for you today, Sir?” He asks in a higher-pitched voice, again hoping that this customer does not escape. Raza is not looking, but he can hear everything. Almost like an old sleeping crocodile.

“Haircut, with clean-shave. I have a rendezvous in an hour”, says the man. He looks quite well-off to me. Why do I care? After negotiating with Manoj, the man sits comfortably in front of the mirror, making different facial expressions to analyze the wrinkles on his face.

“I will be with you in five, Sir”, Manoj says in a hurry, finishing off washing the hair of the young man. “I just need to blow dry his hair, and I’ll be with you”, he said, his eyes glancing at the old clock that Raza refuses to replace. It will cost too much, he had said once to Bansi, to increase your salary. More than replacing this old clock. Raza still does not make a move. He sits idle, looking at the newspaper and calls for Bansi at the same time:

“Bansi! Time for my lunch. Go get it. Go. Go. Like a good boy.” He hands the skinny exhausted worker a fifty-rupee note. The poor kid takes it, after washing his customer’s hair, and runs to get Raza his usual pack of roast chicken and some naan – a sort of flatbread that Raza really enjoys and refuses to share even a morsel with his employees. Meanwhile, the two young men leave happily, after settling the bill for the services provided to them. They say one last thank you to Manoj, who now runs to attend to the customer, who is patiently waiting. My turn now. I have to do this for Manoj. I just want him to receive a nice tip from this customer.

So, Manoj grabs me quickly, from the flask. He wipes my steel legs with a semi-dry towel. I can do this. And off we go! Snip… snip… snip. I work like a charm again. I decide to make this haircut look even better. So, I use my blades wisely to trim accurately and give a straight cut. Every single time. It requires energy to do this! Keeping my blades nice and straight all the time while cutting is not an easy thing to do. After rinsing me, Manoj immediately places me back in the flask, where I can relax again. Phewwww! And I watch. The customer is extremely happy now. He rubs his clean-shaved face with the palm of his hand and runs his fingers in his hair. Maybe he is going on a date. Giggles. Dude! You look good, old man.

“Good job”, he says to Manoj, who is starving at this point. Yes, I can tell by the look on his face and the grumbling noise coming from his stomach -which he ignores from time to time, only to please Raza. I am pretty sure Raza can hear it too but chooses to ignore it. Why should he care? He is not the one starving. His food is on the way. Hot food.

Bansi is still out to get the ordered lunch. I am resting in my flask, proud of the cut I just gave and prouder because Manoj received a tip from the customer. Not a generous one, but still! Even something small matters. Every cent matters when you work for a miserly being like Raza. He has not moved an inch since morning and is now waiting for his food impatiently. Footsteps approach and he thinks it is Bansi with his lunch, but to his disappointment, a usual loyal customer walks in - Mr. Gaur. This customer needs no introduction, as his loud mouth and strong personality speaks for himself. He is one of the well-known lecturers in town. I personally hold no grudges against him, however, over time I have nurtured a slight distaste in him. Mr. Gaur speaks his mind – which is fair enough – however, I do not agree with the contemptuous look or tone he uses to communicate to the employees. I also do not like his moustache, but anyway… moving on.

To my great astonishment, Raza makes a move. Wait, what? If I had a mouth right now, it would have remained open. Wow! Raza! Finally! Initially, I thought he stood on his feet so as to check up on Bansi or his much-awaited food; but, no! Raza stands to personally greet one of his favorite customers. The crocodile woke up.  

“Hello…Hello…Hello Mr. Gaur! After a long time huh?!”, the crocodile shouts with excitement. You will receive the biggest tip Raza, that’s why! His fat body doesn’t allow him to move faster, otherwise, by now, he would have already hugged Mr. Gaur. Meanwhile, a young boy walks in for a haircut and without wasting time, Raza sends Manoj to attend to his unimportant needs. Yeah, right!

“Yes, Raza! How are you? Ready for a nice haircut today?”, replies Mr. Gaur. There you go! I will be put to work again now. Sighs.

“Oh yes! Of course. It is indeed my pleasure to give you the nicest haircut Mr. Gaur. You have made the right choice by coming here!”, Raza yells with pride.

“I will attend to you myself today, what say?” The crocodile still had his eyes on the door. I hope Bansi takes more time and you starve to death Raza. 

With Bansi out on the lunch errand and Manoj attending to the insignificant customer, Raza must put himself to work. He cannot afford to lose this customer. Not this one! Poor Bansi! I can only imagine the yelling that will be thrown at him, upon his return. As if it is his fault if the food is not cooked on time for Raza. Raza ties the cape around Mr. Gaur’s neck. They both smile at each other. Raza grabs me. His fat fingers go inside my finger loops. He looks at the customer in the eye, in the mirror reflection. Mr. Gaur watches him with his glistening eyes, while Raza straightens his head, placing it straight facing the mirror so as to start the most desired and perfect haircut.

And I start my magic! Raza grabs a portion of the hair and lifts it up with Comb, who works very diligently for Raza. And with his right hand, he pulls his fingers away from each other so as to open my blades wide. And… snip! I cut through. Not straight. Again, Comb lifts it up, straightening the hair. And I cut. Not straight. Lift, straightens and snip. Not straight. Omigod! This is giving me so much pleasure! Giggles. Giggles. Giggles.

“What are you doing?”, yells a frustrated and scared Comb, to me.

“Teaching Raza a lesson!”, I reply calmly, with the broadest smile, as if I had a face.

“You can’t do this! Follow my pattern! Follow!” Comb whispers to me, in panic.

“Oh I can cut the way I want. Straight. Not straight. SLANTED.” I would have laughed so loud at that if I could.

Every time Raza aims for a nice straight cut, I bend my blades before trimming. Can you now imagine how the head of Mr. Gaur looks like? Raza cannot keep track of the hair length now. He is slowly losing it. He has forgotten about the food by now. The head shape from the back looks almost like a trapezium. I can see droplets of perspiration on his forehead. Dripping. The panic I can now see on his face – I am running out of words to even describe this.

My “slanted-cut” strategy works wonders! Woohoo! Raza stops for a split second and then makes several attempts to fix it. But too late. My blades automatically bend each time they cut. I can tell that Mr. Gaur is fuming at this point. “What do I look like, to you? You idiot!”, he screams in an attempt of tearing off the cape around his neck, almost suffocating himself. Raza steps back, in bewilderment. “Get this off me, you moron!” I catch Manoj laughing, and then suppressing his laugh by pursing his lips.

At this crucial time, Mr. Gaur’s red face gives me great amusement but more than that, an embarrassed Raza and his apologetic expressions amuse me more. Bansi walks in at the same time, holding the packed lunch, unaware of the situation.

He stands in awe, yet acts perplexed, upon seeing the backside and shape of Mr. Gaur’s head.

As for me, I am still clutched in my mean owner’s fingers, trapped in this situation and waiting to be thrown nastily on the table, but laughing my heart out as I watch the trouble created by my maximum meanness.