Crowning Glory (or) A Day at the Saloon

Recently, I took my daughter to this swanky saloon where they charge you like crazy but make you feel like an emperor for the duration of the service (More money paid, more time as emperor!).

I spent a nervous first five minutes feeling out of place but gradually felt bold enough to request a service brochure. (There is a separate section catering to men).

Before you could say Yul Brenner… I was hooked and was mentally calculating what it would take to join the long line of royalty that ambled in and out.

I must mention here that hitherto, my expectation from a barber were minimalist in nature. I expected him to cut my hair without any visible damage and if I felt like splurging, I had a shave too! I had one rule “Do not twist my neck violently” If the guy did not heed to this rule I do not visit him again!

But I am digressing and should get back. Having gotten hooked, I boldly and recklessly awarded myself a hair-cut and bleach and announced this rather pompously to the receptionist!

Immediately, she swung into action and a shortish guy resembling a wrestler took me by the arm and pulled me towards the inner hall. I was beginning to feel nervous but sort of settled down when I spotted a rather thin guy with a shock of white hair getting his hair dyed in the next chair. If he can survive that I surely can survive this!!!

I have very thin hair to start with and losing whatever I have rapidly. My daughter tells me that I might soon have to pay the barber a “search fee” in addition to his normal charges!!

The dialogue between me and my enthusiastic barber went thus:

Me: I want my hair cut short…

Barber: Sir, I don’t think that would look good on you (he said this in a voice that brooked no arguments and I gave in immediately)

Me: Okay

Barber: I am going to cut your hair short on the back but leave it long in front. That would look good. (Voice of an expert … voice of authority… voice of a guy who knew his job… and his client.)

Me: Okay

He went ahead and gave me a great hair cut (an opinion that was not shared by my wife unfortunately).

Next, I was guided into a smallish room where pictures of girls in various stages of undress were pinned to the walls. The pleasant thoughts evoked by them were immediately offset by the strange looking implements scattered around the room. There was something that looked like a mask of “Darth Vader” and an implement that looked like garden shears. It was a room which would have done Torquemada proud!!

In spite of my misgivings, the bleaching session went so well that I fell asleep. I was woken up and after the necessary cleaning up, a mirror was held to reflect (pun intended) on the glory that was my face. I could observe no change from the original but having calculated the amount I was going to pay tried in vain to look at some positives and convinced myself that I looked a shade fairer!

With the same firm hand, he took me to the receptionist who looked like a butcher ready to deliver the coup-de-grace to an unsuspecting lamb and she announced that the charges were Rs.250 plus VAT, I paid.

While waiting for my daughter to finish her grooming, I came to the conclusion that all in all, it was a very enjoyable experience barring the overruling of my opinion on my hairstyle. In fact, I was beginning to feel good and was positively beaming by the time my daughter came out.

Like all good things, this feeling did not last and when my daughter came over and explained that she had decided to add a facial and a manicure to her hair-cut and demanded 700 bucks for the same, it had completely evaporated.

While I was in bed that night thinking about the day, I concluded that it was not all bad actually…. after all…you can make money anytime but how long can your hair last?

Just before I drifted off to sleep, I made a promise…. Next time herbal facial!!!!

Father of 14 (or) The Power of a Comma

Every profession has a way of impacting one’s personal life. Those who work on mill houses become hard of hearing and welders end up with bum eyes in the long run.

More subtle but long lasting are the changes brought about by the so-called white collar jobs. The effect is not merely physical but gets ingrained into our psyche.

Take the case of doctors… we look at Namitha and worry about our blood pressure… a doctor looks at her and worries about her blood pressure!

Being a medical transcriptionist completely changes the way you read. I used to read Sherlock Holmes and dream about sleepy English villages before. Now, I am more concerned about the proofreading errors and punctuations!

Speaking of punctuations, the below incident left me enlightened about the power of a comma, and a reputation I do not care to boast of!!

I often chat with our vendors in Philippines on Skype. One of them (let us call him Jude) became pretty friendly with me.

Last week, Jude popped me to convey that he had been offered the post of country manager for a retail chain and has accepted. As a result, he would be stepping out of medical transcription for the time being.

This man is a firm believer in both God and man and has been taken on a ride by both on more than one occasion. So, I quoted an old Arab proverb “Have faith in Allah, but tie up your camel.”

We both had agreed on how appropriate this proverb is and as we were preparing to say our goodbyes, I conveyed my wishes to his family.

He in turn wished me and my family well and “wanted to convey his wishes to my 14 daughters…..”

I nearly fell out of my chair and inquired whether he had been drinking early in the morning… he replied in the negative and said in a surly voice that all he wanted to do was greet them and not marry them!!

I was thoroughly confused by now and wanted to know where he got this crazy idea from… he pointedly said “from you man … you told me you have 14 daughters.”

I checked myself to see if I was drunk and not being so, proceeded to question his sanity.

He told me in a most emphatic way that I had told him I had 14 daughters and in fact typed it out. So I went back to my Skype history and went through the saved transcripts.

Suddenly… there it was…. I was hit by a thunderbolt!

The conversation in question went like this…

Jude: I have one daughter who is 7.

Me: (I never waste words) Daughter 14.

The comma was missing!! I meant daughter, 14 but missed the comma.

I was thoroughly humiliated and clarified the error to Jude. Immediately, his mood improved and in fact, he laughed out quite wildly for a couple of minutes.

When I got around to seeing the funny side, I laughed too, and we both agreed that it would have been a unique achievement if this had been indeed true.

Jude told me he often wondered before he fell asleep about how I had managed the feat. 14 Children by themselves are unique but 14 daughters in a row? Mind blowing!!

I remarked that I would have been a very tired man if this had happened and he wholeheartedly agreed. We both entered into a discussion about how TV affects the marital life and how Tamil Nadu has a high TV obsession and the government had doled out free TVs to the poor and lowest birth rate. He inquired if the same free TV model could be tried out in a couple of areas of Philippines and I promised to refer him to the concerned authorities.

Feigning disinterest, I inquired whether he had informed anyone else about my faux pas and he said only about 40 people so far…. I cursed him in my mind and remarked that that was half the population of his town … and he quipped back saying that Filipinos and Indians being alike when it comes to gossip… the other half would know by nightfall and by daybreak, the entire Philippines would have a rough idea.

I added a few sarcastic remarks about his ancestry and legality of his birth but he was in too good a mood to reply and kept laughing.

I know defeat when it stares me in my face and kicks me in the family jewels so I said my goodbye and quit.

That, my friend, is how I became father of 14 by the power of a comma.