Places - Time Warp In The Corner Barbershop

Time Warp In The Corner Barbershop

Fifty yards from where I live, the little barbershop in the ancient, graceful building still stands – as if defying the ravages of time. A little sign inside tells you that the shop was established in 1936. I have been getting my hair cut here ever since I can remember. Every time I walk in here, I still feel like a schoolboy in short pants. The shop is tiny, with three chairs for customers, a plain tile floor, a big window facing the street and a very high ceiling that keeps it cool even on hot summer days. The rate card clearly specifies the services provided and the prices charged. The cheapest service offered is a “Mustache Trim” which costs Rs. 5. The most expensive services provided are “Haircut”, “Face Massage” and “Head Massage”, all of which cost Rs. 20. If you are looking for a shave, there are a variety of services provided – right from “Normal Shave” which costs Rs. 10, to “Beard Trim with Chehra” which costs Rs. 12, to “Special Shave with Cream” which costs Rs. 15. The old transistor radio in the corner which has clearly seen better days still plays Hemant Kumar and Lata Mangeshkar songs from the 1950s.

All around it, the world has changed. All the little shops that used to surround it are gone, replaced by ritzy stores selling beauty products and pizza parlors. This little barbershop and the disreputable restaurant next to it are all that are left from the old days. The restaurant still has a dark, smoky dirty room where alcohol is served – euphemistically called the “Family Room”. I have not been in the “Family Room” in years, but in all the time I have lived here, I have never seen a family in it. The “Family Room” caters to sad-eyed losers getting drunk in the middle of the day, local drunks, furtive middle-aged couples cheating on their spouses, and teenage boys and girls who use the dark interiors as a place to make out. Needless to say, I have fond memories of the “Family Room”.

In the old days, I got my fill of local gossip at the barbershop, and also increased my knowledge of the Bollywood film industry, as I perused dirty, well-worn back issues of film magazines. I learnt some very interesting local curse-words which I still cherish. Unfortunately they do not translate well, and as the demographic composition of the neighborhood has changed, these words are not much in use anymore. Paunchy, middle-aged men hung out at the shop, gossiping about various topics - Sunil Gavaskar’s batting, Helen’s dancing, how hot Zeenat Aman looked in “Qurbani” and the like. The fly-blown window at the barbershop is a great window to the world. As a teenager, I perpetually looked out of that window – watching all the attractive women who walked down the street outside, as I cut my hair inside. There were far fewer cars in those days, and life seemed much more tranquil. Today, you can barely hear yourself speak above the roar of traffic.

The old barber, long since dead, was like a doting grandfather – he regaled you with tall tales of his life as a child in Nashik as he cut your hair. He wasn’t a particularly good barber and took far too long for an impatient young kid like me, but his stories (mostly about his own superhuman feats) kept you involved and interested. The world seemed a slower, simpler and more graceful place back then. The barber now is a much more professional, matter-of-fact fellow who is also very skilled. Of course, my hair isn’t what it used to be – essentially, there is far less of it. As a teenager, I am sure my thick tangled mane presented a challenging assignment to barbers. The barber’s eyes would light up with the glint of battle every time I walked into the shop – a little like a general’s when he sees a worthy adversary on the battlefield. Today, my rapidly receding hairline is not much of a challenge, I am sure.

However, the real world intrudes, even in timeless barbershops. The old rate card was a dirty piece of paper stuck on the wall, with the rates for the various services provided scrawled in almost illegible English. The new rate card is a computer printout, with the rates all neatly typed out. It even has a line at the bottom that says “Thank You, Please Come Again Soon”.

I am sure that the barbershop and the beautiful, graceful building it stands in will be demolished soon, making way for a glittering, soulless high-rise building. When that happens, I will lose another small yet memorable part of my childhood forever. But until then, I will continue to get my hair cut at the corner barbershop.