Cut up about it

Father is at his worst on haircut days. Something about going to a salon triggers the beast in him. He believes that hairdressers are a necessary evil. This despite the fact that he needs to have his haircut every fortnight.

Yes. You heard me right. He has to get a haircut every two weeks.

And we dread those weekends. We pray that he would get bald soon so that we can skip that ordeal. But no such luck. Nature has ordained him with a lush growth of deep black hair that refuses to turn grey. He turns 65 tomorrow and will have to officially retire from work. His office, where he has worked for the last 32 years, is arranging a grand farewell party for him. Father is secretly delighted, but does not let on. He walks around with a super smug look. And talking about looks, he has decided that tomorrow he is going to get his haircut so that he can look all spruced up for his party.

“Tomorrow at 9 am I will visit the salon for haircut.” He had announced over breakfast this morning.

I could literally see mom wilting. The smile froze on her face and we, my brother, mom and I, exchanged worried glances.

Father’s haircut preparations will start from this evening. At first he will apply 3 gallons of coconut oil in his head and soak for at least 2 hours. This process will invariably give him a headache, which in turn will lead to a really foul mood. He never agrees that it’s the oil that gives him these headaches. He always tries to palm off the blame on something or someone else. Once he zeroes in on the Chosen One, he will blame everything on this person. From the blister on his toe to the crease on his shirt. From the dust on the window sill to the dogs barking incessantly outside, it will all be due to the actions of the Chosen One. 

My brother and I are well versed in the act of avoiding father on such days. We disappear into our room pretending to be working on a project with a tight deadline or faking a stomach ache or whatever else we could think of without arousing suspicion. So usually poor mom bore the brunt of it. All day mother walked around like a lamb about to be slaughtered. We guiltily avoided her eyes and started to make excuses. After lunch my brother ran away to his friend’s house on the pretext of a group project. I was still thinking of a valid excuse when suddenly our neighbour – and incidentally my father’s only friend – walked in grinning widely.

“Where is the birthday boy?” he asked chirpily, making me choke on my glass of water.

“Oh he is at work. His birthday is tomorrow actually. And it will be his last day at work. They are giving him a grand farewell party.” Mom explained

“I know. I know. And I have something for that rascal of a man!” Said the neighbour and guffawed at his own inside joke.

Just then father walked in from work “Who are you calling a rascal?” he asked smiling slyly

“Here.. here… my friend! I have something special for you. I know how much you hate visiting salons for a haircut, so here’s a special gift.” The neighbour said, handing father a neatly wrapped box

Father looked slightly stunned. For that matter, mom and I were stunned too by this unexpected gesture.

“Open it. Open it.” The neighbour insisted, looking expectantly at father.

Slightly embarrassed, father smiled rather coyly and started to unwrap his gift. We waited with bated breath to know what was inside. Father’s awkward fingers finally managed to unwrap the gift and open the box and then he pried out his gift. It was a hair trimmer.

“Ha ha ha…” laughed the neighbour. “See…what a special gift!” he said taking the gadget from father and admiring it himself

Father looked very confused. I was sure he had no idea what the gift was. Mom and I just gawked.

“Heh heh…errr what is it?” asked father, blushing

“This? This my dear friend is a hair trimmer….” Said the neighbour. Pausing at this point for dramatic effect.

We all stared at him. Father looked like a deflated balloon. And the neighbour’s smile started to weaken a bit. Suddenly we all realised how rude we were being and jolted into action

“Wow! How nice!” exclaimed mom “Just the thing he needs.” She lied blithely.

“Yes yes. Very nice. Very nice. Thank you so much.” Father said awkwardly

“There are detailed instructions in that manual. Go through it and give yourself a young man haircut for tomorrow!” said the neighbor, thumping father on his back

“Of course, of course…heh heh…” father fumbled and mumbled. “Why don’t you sit down, have some coffee.” Father said in his perfect host voice.

The neighbor settled on the sofa and mother went in to get the coffee. I quietly took the hair trimmer away and started to read the instructions.

An hour later, the neighbor finally left.

“Ummm what is that thing?” father asked when he caught me trying to quietly place it back on the center table.

“It’s a hair trimmer.” I said and began to walk backwards towards my room.

“That I also know. What is it supposed to do?” Father asked, his eyes glowering at me

“It’s like a hair cutting machine. You can cut your hair with it yourself.” I explained nervously

“Cut hair myself?” Father said, his voice filled with wonder. I could almost hear his brain cells working overtime. Cring. Tring. Bling.

“That means I don’t have to go that horrible salon anymore! And I don’t need to pay that overcharging thief to give me his customary bad haircuts.” Father said with mounting excitement. I could see that he was finally beginning to appreciate his gift.

“What a true friend this man is!” Father beamed. “Have you…any of you ever thought of giving me such a useful gift?” He said looking accusingly at us.

“I don’t see how you will use this thing! If your hands shake when you are using it, you will cut your scalp.” Mom said rolling her eyes.

“What do you mean?” Father thundered. “I have the steadiest hands.” He said admiring his palms

“Yeah sure. Just don’t blame me later.” Mom said querulously

“When do I ever blame you for anything?” Father said in his victim voice.

“Don’t try to sweet talk me. I will have nothing to do with this.” Mother said with an air of finality

Father’s shoulders dropped and he picked up the gadget trying to figure out one end from the other. Suddenly he noticed me.

“I saw you reading the instructions. Come here and help me. Be part of this historic occasion. I’m going to cut my own hair!” father said proudly

Oh no, I was to be the Chosen One today!

“Th… there are no English instructions. There’s only Chinese and other languages. I think he’s palmed off something that he did not want.” I said, trying to wriggle out of it.

“What do you mean no English instructions?” father demanded and then proceeded to snatch the bunch of instructions from me. After 5 minutes of gawking at the literature in various alien languages, father declared “There is nothing in English!” and then looked at me accusingly as if it was my fault.

He then made me sit next to him as he tried to understand the diagram mentioning various parts of the gadget. “There… it needs AA size batteries. That’s it. And then we can use it.” He said gleefully.

We put in the batteries and father switched it on. Whirrrrrrrrr came the monotone sound from the machine.

“It’s working!” father said with childlike excitement. And I was thrilled too, despite myself.

Then father raised the machine to his head and switched it on.

Whrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

“Wait…wait dad…do you know what you are doing. I mean what kind of cut you want…” I tried to reason

But father was like a man possessed. With gleaming eyes he brought the whirring machine to the side of his head. I watched fascinated as clumps of his thick hair fell off.

Whiirrrrrk whiirrrrrrk whirrrrrrrk hurrrrrrr hurrrrr

Suddenly the machine made weird sounds. And then it stopped. It was stuck in his thick hair. For a few stunned moments father just stood there with the hair trimmer dangling from his hair.

Mother came by to see what the commotion was all about and I could see her jaw drop open.

Father was turning red. “Don’t just stand there you two! Do something.” He blubbered angrily

Mother and I exchanged glances over his head and tried hard to smother our laughter.

“Your hair was probably too thick for this machine.” Mother said peering into the ‘accident zone’. “Hair has got entangled into the blade of this machine.” She declared expertly

“Oh gee thanks. Like I did not know that. Do something! Get it out!” Father bellowed

We tried various methods to pry it out while father howled and blamed us for his latest misfortune.

Two hours later, father was still sitting there red in the face, with the gadget dangling from his head. On the centre table where a whole load of things we had used to try and get it out. Scissors, soap, oil, pliers, and what not!

Just then my brother trooped in and took in the whole scene. “What the hell…” he exclaimed

“Don’t ask.” We chorused

“Get the car out right now!” father commanded him. “We’re going to the salon.”

Later my brother told us how the hairdresser at the salon had nearly died laughing. Anyway. Eventually he managed to get it out of father’s hair. He also managed to save the day by giving father a half decent haircut. 

Next day, as father set off for his last day at work, the neighbour waved at him. “Nice haircut. So…you liked the gift I hope. You lend it to me tomorrow, I will also cut my hair with it. What a nice cut you have got!” he said cheerfully

Father attempted a smile that came out like a grimace.

“Yes, yes good gift, good gift.” He said. “It was so good, my hairdresser has borrowed it.” Father lied and quickly drove away to work.

Thank God the ordeal was over for us all. And we had two weeks to recover before the next haircut was upon us.