The Voice Of My Hair
The other day I stared into the mirror looking at my receding hairline and feeling I could have done with some better genes and some better hair maybe? But then I stopped and shut my eyes... One thought led to the other and took me down a rabbit hole of time, back many years, to that barber on my street who used to give me a cut for Rs.11/-. The barber's shop wasn't very big and had room for a tiny bench behind the cutting chair, where his customers patiently waited their turn. Seated on that bench, there were only 2 interesting views to be had: one of the sunlight darting in through the little entry door that spot lit the dance of dust particles in the shop; and the other being the back head of the customer who was getting the haircut. For the customer getting the haircut, however, there was unfortunately not much of an option in terms of views: at best he could stay entertained with the snipping tune of the scissors and the banter of the barber and the bench guys. During on