Friday, March 31, 2006

Hairy Tales

I get my hair cut once a year. When the strands of grey decide to strengthen their tribe, and the few black strands get insecure and leave in a huff. Then, I know it's time for a haircut. Never before - those fancy salons are expensive. Rs.250 for a wash-n-cut. And of course, it's a fashion suicide to go to the para'r "Lakshmi Beauty Parlour - We cut hare, padicure, threding, waxing and ladies beauty faecial for marriage purpose".
I also cut my hair when i'm disgruntled. With something or other. Let's skirt the issue of possible insanity and call it a delightful quirk.
My last haircut was before Pujo 2005, so the scheduled next one should have been around Pujo '06. But then, D told me he was leaving the country for 4-5 years, and I thought it would be nice to know absolutely zilch during the Queer Studies mid-sem and the gynaecologist told me my ovaries are being targeted by aliens - so, all in all, it was time for a haircut.
I shan't deny it - I like going to these fancy salon/parlour places. Not only because they make my hair smell good, my head feels light, like a weight's been lifted off it, but most importantly because of the ambient noise. The conversation. High society hoopla. I'll tell you a secret - I actually take care to dress well for my haircut. I want to fit in. And observe.
It's like watching a play. Droves of middle-aged "society ladies" gagging over each other's Ritu Kumar's, discussing the 14 different themes for the 14 different parties that will precede and succeed their son/daughter's wedding. Fascinating.

BJ[The hair-stylist and owner of this new, upmarket hair salon. Famous mama of make-overs]: Oh, darling, so nice to see you! You haven't come in, in 3 weeks!
Lady in mid-40s[I'll be honest - she was elegantly dressed, and looked sensible]: Oh, BJ! I've been so busy planning my trip to LA next month, I haven't had time for come in for my Dead-Sea pedicure!
BJ: Oh! LA! I was there last month, only! Check out the shopping mall on Upper Eighth Street!

etc. etc.

When you've grown up getting "boy's cuts" from the neighbourhood Kim Ling, where your cook also, incidentally gets her eyebrows done before the monthly sunday family outing to Diamond Harbour , a place where the haircutter and the haircuttee both vacation abroad, is fascinating.
Until of course, the bill says Rs. 565. For a shampoo and a haircut. Hair cut in layers because, "Darling! [pronounced: dulling] Only layers for a fat face! Layers and layers and moooore layers!" Told you - theatrical.
Now I have to wait 2 years for my next parlour party - I've grossly over-budgeted this one. Which means 2 years of ignoring frantic pleas from hair follicles to give them a nice massage and trim - this time they'll file for divorce, I just know. And 2 years of not getting depressed or disjointed or feeling any extreme emotion. Awful.

In other news, was accused of harassment by a Gariahat hawker. All because he'd asked Rs. 95 for a pair of pants and I'd said Rs.40 and stuck to the deal, and then when he agreed and put the pants in a polythene bag, and stretched his palm for some good dough - I spotted a better shade of pants in the adjacent stall and moved on. Thrice. As in - repeat whole exercise three times. Ki korbo- ALal wants an exact shade of ashen night attire for the play. Beckett's instructions.
Now Squee and Fish and SELL[Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands. Friend-of-Fish.] refuse to be seen with me after the Gariahat debacle.
Thrice a day, every day, J takes a long look at me and says,"You're dead." And it's not a threat, she means that I don't look like a live person anymore. By which you are to draw the conclusion that I look like a dead person. So much for trying to go with the "nude" look and not wearing any kajol. hmph.
D now lives in Minneapolis in a house with a swimming pool overlooking a lake. I feel the most brilliant things for him. :-] Which explains the sudden energy to post and get back to normal life - I've heard from him, he's alive and only has minor diarrhoea. Life, as it were - is oh-awrite-ish.

14 comments:

Deepali said...

you're back! feeling better I hope?

I usually lose a lot of hair after my semi-annual hair trim ventures and start to believe in 'buri nazar' after the haircutter gushes and gushes oh and gushes and calls other haircutters in the salon to take a look at the hair [while i turn pale pink--> pink --->tomato red]. This is almost inevitably followed by atleast 1.5 months of greater hair loss than usual much to my distress.

buri nazar it is i tell you!

*sigh*

And no, my hair aren't that gorgeous just 'thick' by some people's standards and slightly- wavyish-straight and don't look dead [because i do notblow dry/mousse/colour/streak/highlight blah blah it]

next time I'm in my desh I am SO going to steal one of those truck signs "buri nazar wale tera muuh kaala"

*self satisfied smile*

Lahar said...

I only go for haircuts so that I can read Cosmo. Thats the nice thing about being a guy- it costs about 150/- at the Oberoi and 40 at friendly neighbourhood barbershop with Cosmo. If I time it right I can finish two issues before its my turn. My only problem is that the barber gives me shy smiles and rubs himself against my knee

the still dancer said...

done nikuchis! beckett's instructions are also being asking phore ay man and not ooman. whyphore then not phollowing. better to be relocating to byangalore- i eej not phainding good people to do importance of being ernesht.

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thalassa_mikra said...

Ok hon, here's the deal. The next time your BJ (that is just so, so hilariously obscene) starts talking about malls in "Upper Eighth Street" in LA, gently remind that this terminology is not used in LA.

There is no Upper Eighth Street here. Very simple logic for this, Eighth Street runs West-East, not North-South.

Teleute said...

I find getting a haircut very stress-relieving. And since I rarely get a haircut, I prefer to go to fancy pricey parlour place, too. It feels good.

Anonymous said...

'air 'ead
'u 'r dead

rainbeau_peep said...

dee,
u have thick hair. get away from me. :-[

*ruefully passes fingers over hairless skull*

Lahar,
Maybe he's seen ur pantyhose, or ur bra strap peeping out from under your shirt. Or maybe he's a cat and this is one of his lives. [Really, what do u want me to say? Have I ever cared about your life and liasions?]

shtill dyanshar,
aare nikuchis have done and redone and overdone themselves mairi! We are going nuts sewing sacks, matching clothes, falling off chairs, balancing 15 foot long bamboos .. the works. And no, the night attire was for "catastrophe" where Shyam does indeed insist on ash-coloured nightwear for the protagonist. Awl the besht for a wilde parformensh. meanwhile, we parform through next week - and i shtill don't have my lines.

Anon,
Bitch.

thalassa,
why is BJ obscene? those are really her initials. and no, she may not have said upper eighth - but she was very descriptive about malls and exactly which shop on which floor stocked vidal sassoon etc., so i think she knows.

Utey,
Yes. Till you pay the bill. :-|

anon,
trippin'?

rainbeau_peep said...

e bawa, i know how liason is spelt. honest, i do.

monku said...

i have horrible hair, u don't !!i love *those* parlours but they're bloody expensive !and great post,as usual :)

rainbeau_peep said...

monku,
*those* parlours are stellar as long as (a) you don't have to do the entertain-ur-stylist-or-suffer-mad-hairdo non-stop chatter, and can be content with quiet observation of surroundings; and (b) don't have to pay the bill.
and I don't see anything wrong with ur hair at awl - it's long, fashionably highlighted and not gray anywhere. i mean, u don't even have to bloody think of covering up the balding patch on the right temple! so u stop talking about horrible hair, young lady!