Friday, August 15, 2008

B +

Being an NRI has its pros and cons. On the plus side, I can drink water straight out of a tap, use air conditioning 24 hours a day, and switch on TV without seeing Amitabh Bachchan in an advertisement. On the dark side, my haircuts cost the same as a fake i-pod.

But that's not the reason why my hair haven't been anywhere near scissors in 6 months. No, it isn't the monetary cost that's keeping me away from the Parlors (as Ekta can vouch) - it is the fear of of ending up looking like Donald Trump.

The last time I had a haircut I took a picture of Rachel from Friends to communicate with the hairdresser. I handed a creaseless print-out carefully to the stylist and spoke in the best Cantonese I knew, namely jabbing my finger at the picture and then my head. In response, he took one long look at me, then a much longer look at Rachel (which he proceeded to pocket in his pants) and confidently whipped out his comb and scissors.

I had a feeling I was in good hands and closed my eyes. Turns out, my sixth sense is nowhere near Bollywood's mothers' standards.

The next time I looked into the mirror I looked like a 60s rock star, which isn't a good thing if you don't have a legion of stoned fans getting drunk to love you. My hair were long from the bottom, short from the top and jagged all over. Which would have been all right had I agreed to color them pink and relocated to the 1960s. But in current circumstances, it was possibly a good move to shave my head altogether. (Which I didn't, no guts.)

It took my 2 long years to grow out of the mess and endless good cooking to make up for the shortcoming to my husband. Now my haircuts - they happen only in India.

Okay, so I should have found something much more meaningfully positive about India for an Independence Day post. But what the heck, Jai Hind!


Raccoon said...

hahahaha...totally empathize with that!! I decided to become a little adventurous with my hairdresser in the US and requested him to give me a cut that I always got in India - and ended up looking like something out of 'Walk like an Egyptian'.

Since I cant wait till my trip to India in Dec, I've decided to stick with the dreary cut that hairdressers give here:(

Ekta said...

u know i sympathise...i really do!
i am actually scared what my hairdresser in india will say the next time i go to him..."did u hand in a piece of cheese in your hair waiting for a mouse to jump into it?"

retarded said...


Good one!
This happens at UK haircuts too..
The first time I went for a haircut, I came back looking like a puppy drenched in the rain and then been through a sewage pipe.

The next time, as per a friend’s suggestion, I asked the hairdresser to use size4.
Whether I made a mistake or whether she thought I was implying that she is of slight build – I still donno, I returned with a haircut that would have made a prison cut look better!

Further suggestions flowed in, not that I asked for it, those who saw me felt compelled to advise it seems!
Most of them were in the lines of “The next time, go for the hairdresser who is there at the Sunday make-shift market. He is Pakistani and understands Indian haircuts better… and know what?! He is cheap as hell compared to the English!”.

Desperate to look better than a drenched puppy, I selected a fine Sunday.
Let me not extend the comment further. I shall just say India’s diplomatic relations with Pakistan at the time did cost me my looks!
Jai Hind! [and peace to Pakistan as well]