Today morning I went to a salon nearby my home aptly called "Hairport" to trim my beard, and without my asking, the Bangladesh barber also cut my nose hairs, trimmed my eyebrows, and got rid of the hairs on my ears. Reminded me that I am growing old because I don't remember having such "runaway" hair on all these body parts in my younger days. Hehe.
Sunday, January 15, 2023
A visit to the "hair port"
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For the most part of the last five years my barber has been Benny. He's an interesting elderly Chinese man. I always enjoy the small talk I have with him as I watch him in the mirror hold up and clip strand after strand of my hair. .
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Benny closed shop over a year ago. Ever since it has been Muru, a man from Tamil Nadu. He always wears a Mickey Mouse tee, has a white Tilaka on his forehead as if he just got back after performing Pooja, and has a rosary of prayer beads around his neck (the purpose of which I used to think about while he cuts my hair). He’d always roll a toilet paper around my neck, put his cover over me & ask me ‘pendek?’ & I’d nod my head. His trimmer, armed with a number 2 comb, would go buzzing like a giant hornet right next to my ears as the blades liberate my ears from the onslaught of bristly hair growing right above them. His trimmer would go up from the sideburns to create a slope, fade & do a perfect Indian-barber-style crew cut.
Once done, he would write RM12 on a tiny piece of paper and ask me to pay to a man who sits outside under a large glass frame with beautiful Arabic calligraphy embroidered in silver thread on black velvet cloth.
Reading your comment reminded me of going to a barber shop on Majeedhee Magu with my dad every Friday morning during my childhood. I felt an affinity with the Indian barber there because I liked how he styled my hair. I wonder where he may be now. Must be really old or not even alive. God bless him wherever he is.
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