Apart from the career and the money that he earns, a man is
identified either for the muscles that he builds or for the moustache that he
grows. Incidentally I am not an achiever on any of these four aspects of the
life. When I was in Class 12th moustache started cropping on either
side below my nose. Often while studying in the classroom or at home, my fingers
would cuddle the moustache unconsciously. While standing before the mirror and
dressing the hair, I used to measure the length of my moustache by counting the
teeth of the comb.
Entire life I never attended any co-educational school. So on
entering DAV College at Titilagarh (Odisha) I had the urge to have a girl
friend. But unfortunately there was only one girl student in the entire
Commerce faculty, since this was not a preferred subject for the girls during
the 80’s of the last Century. I had a batch mate in the college by the name
Santosh Sahu. Though he was of short stature, yet he possessed a dense
moustache. He was active in all the college activities, whereas I was shy by
nature. He said, “Kiran if you want to impress any girl of the art stream thanyou need to have an impressive moustache”.
As per his suggestion once or twice
I remember even applying hair oil skin-deep on the follicles of the moustache to
make it dense and long, but to no avail. Likewise the well groomed moustache of
Laxmi Narayan Hota the reporter of Sambad at Sambalpur makes
me feel envy.
At the age of 25 or 26 I was someone who was very much conscious about the outer looks of self. But with the passing age the charm has faded. Now at the age of 44, I am least alert either about the dress that I ware or the way I dress my hair.
I know many men for whom shaving is a daily course of action. As a ritual they religiously spend around 15 minutes to half an hour every morning for the upkeepment of their hair loom. For them moustache is a sign of masculinity. But I am very much averse to all these activities. My tryst with the shaving started with the use of single blade razors during the late 80’s. Many a time I injured myself while shaving. But during the mid 90’s things got convenient with the advent of 7’0 Clock twin blades. With the purchase of these expensive twin blades though I got relief from the injuries to my throat or the cheeks, but my wallet started bleeding.
There are a set of vocations to which you are incarcerated. For
example the services of a lawyer, a doctor, an insurance agent, a housemaid or
be it your barber are highly indispensable. You just can’t change these persons
whom you have hired at your own will. It is not just for the valuable services
that they render, but for the reason, they posses certain sensitive information
about you and your family, which if spilled would adversely damage your dignity
in the society.
My father by profession is a paediatrician. He is someone who
talk scantily even with the family members. He is a man born with just a few
words. By nature he is very strict and highly discipline. Even the attendee of
the patients fear to ask him any questions about the diagnosis. He seldom
speaks anything even with my mother, except asking either for a cup of tea or
to serve the breakfast, lunch or dinner. But this regulation is not imposed on a
barber of Barpali who is attending him for the past 26 years (ever since 1991)
uninterruptedly. While applying the shaving crème on the cheeks and creating
the foam he would start the weekly news bulletin with his familiar question “Jaincha
ken ? ” Whch means, do you know ? And this début question raises a lot of
curiosity in the mind to know what the issue is. While shaving the beard or
cutting the hair of my father, he would talk everything that exist under the
sun and about the solar eclipse too. He in fact is a living encyclopaedia of
Barpali. As a reward he keeps on gathering lot of commodities, be it the
physician samples, new year calendars, used wardrobes, even guavas, bananas or
the berries of our garden. I depend solely upon this barber to size my
moustache, since till date I have not learnt how to trim it. This man is highly
unhygienic. While shaving he would bring his nostril so close to my face, that
I could sense his breathing. Once I even lost the height of tolerance when he
belched loudly on my face.
Two years back my Dad gifted me a battery operated Philips
shaving machine. But I kept it unused in the cupboard for long three months,
since I am someone who is averse to the use of new age gadgets. He warned me to
return, so as he could gift it to a cousin brother of mine. Immediately I went
to the grocery shop and purchased a set of two Everready pencil batteries to
operate it. With the use of this machine life became simpler.
One day Esha my daughter spotted a few strings of grey hair
near my ears and clapped while saying “Hey hey hey ; mor Nana Buddha heigala
; ha ha ha; mor Nana Buddha heigala” (Hey hey hey; my father became an old
man; ha ha ha; my Father became an old man). With a sense of dismay I went to
check the mirror, but consoled myself thinking so what if my hair is greying.
It is greying since I left with hair on the head. Thank God at least my
situation is better than my friend Sushil Mittal. He is an IES (Indian
Engineering Services) qualified professional and works as a top notch General
Manager (Engineer) of Bharat Broadband Network
Ltd (BBNL). He avails the best perquisites ever given by Govt. of India, be it
the accommodation and vehicle. And on retirement he will be entitled for a lifetime
pension. But the irony is that he turned bald by the age he turned 40.
I am naive to any activities that is related to shaving. Incidentally the only aspect of it to which I am addicted is inhalation of after shave lotion.
PS : Barpalidays would like to express thanks to artist Saroj Rout for clicking the cover photo
E. KIRAN MOHAN(The writer)
C\o. Dr.E.R.Rao (M.D),
C\o. Dr.E.R.Rao (M.D),
Tehsil Chowk,
At\PO: BARPALI – 768029,
Dist. Bargarh, Odisha, India.
Impressive blog
ReplyDeleteHahaha..awesome post sir..I also love the smell of after shaving cream 😁😁 that's true that barbers are walking encyclopedia of the town
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