There’s a small barber shop near the corner of my street. In fact, a few have popped up over the past couple of years. They had mostly shut down after COVID, and even I had got into the habit of calling for a haircut at home. But, of late, I started revisiting the new ones, and discovered some new worlds.
The shop is nice-looking, nothing fancy but better looking than the ones I grew up with — three or four chairs, a mirror in front of them, lots of shelves carrying bottles of different kinds and a couple of young hairdressers who have stylish haircuts and hair colours.
For the last couple of times I have stepped in, it feels like entering a little theatre though.
The hairdresser, with his scissors snipping rhythmically, starts the show, typically with a question ‘Short or Medium?’ which I have never been able to accurately answer yet. But once that is out of the way, the silence is then filled with interesting conversations.
“So, did you hear about the new cricket team selection?” he asks, as if continuing a conversation that’s been going on for years.
By the time I mumble a reply, the customer in the next chair chimes in. Cricket and politics provokes opinions like nothing else does.
A third guy having a hair colour session interjects. The person sitting on the waiting sofa introduces some film-related conversation, inspired by the magazine he is browsing.
Soon, the room is alive — politics, cricket, film stars, rising prices, neighbourhood gossip — all flying through the air like snipped bits of hair falling on the floor.
I mostly sit quiet, letting the stories swirl around me.
It amazes me how strangers can talk so freely in the hairdresser’s chair.
The mirror reflects more than just our faces. It reflects the world we carry with us.
By the time the barber brushes off my shoulders, I’ve not only got a haircut but also a dozen opinions, half a cricket commentary, a view on the political scene and at least one conspiracy theory.
I look at myself in the mirror one last time. Then I step out lighter because of my trimmed hair, but with a bag full of potential stories. Maybe, I should have taken some other service to spend more time on that chair. It’s not a bad place for everyday stories.
At the barber’s, you don’t just get a haircut. You get stories.
Sometimes, the most ordinary chairs give us the richest conversations.
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