during childhood days at madras or madurai, the cut was always a summer cut, a 10 minute comb-scissor play of "snip, snip, snip", and i was released from the throne.
the longest part of the sunday ritual was the wait to ascend the throne. this wait sometimes could be up to an hour, but was painless as the time was well spent glancing dailies and weeklies - "dina malar, dina thanthi, saavi, kumudham, anandha vikatan", listening to 60s/70s tamil hit songs on the grandpa-radio, and the repartee that ensued amongst the sunday idlers.
every customer, acquaintance or stranger, was welcomed with "annae, vaanga annae (brother, welcome brother)", by the barber/s. "ukkarunga (please sit!). edho pathu nimisham (just 10 minutes)".
the just arrived customer joins the bench of customers, some probably doing their third just-10-minutes wait. the bench eventually starts discussing movies, roads, water supply problems, news, sports, what-not, and of course politics.
like time, the plank on the wall that says, "arasiyal pesadheergal! (please don't discuss politics)", is not respected.
at the end of the entertaining & g.k. enriching wait and the hair cut, a mere ten rupee note exchanged hands.
in the US, there is no wait to get to the not-so-royal-throne. and i am required to give specifications for the cut with numbers- "3 on the side, 4 on top".
"swoosh, swoosh", and within a span of 4 minutes a clean job is done. fifteen dollars leaves the wallet.
the other day, i decided to break the convention.
"hi! can you please use scissors ?" as not much of the black substance was left on the top, i added, "just cut a little from the sides, and leave the rest in tact".
my barber started scissoring very slowly. he went on-and-on, artistically. i felt as if I had asked a maths phd to recite the multiplication tables.
after about one hour of effort, and a little over a small amount of strands cut, the customary, "how does it look"- look was given to me. the work was neat, very neat indeed.
i heartily thanked him, pitied and tipped him heavy.
Showing posts with label madurai. Show all posts
Showing posts with label madurai. Show all posts
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
my dear army officer
my thatha (grandpa, mom's dad) - a perfection demanding, brisk walking, british english speaking, melody songs loving, hindu crossword cracking, arithmetic wizard. but the icing - a very very short tempered man.
to give you an essence of the shortness - when he is tempered, a crying child in the next house will freeze, put a finger on its mouth, and put one on its mother's.
as a kid, i admired him for his knowledge, but avoided the army officer. i had to keep my radar sharp, lest i would have to undergo a smartness and sharpness check by the officer, which i used to fail consistently.
periodically, he would set a trap for the evasive kid, capture me, make me sit, and teach me wren-yuck-martin. those doses of grammar sucked, and the homework he gave, zapped my energy. even multiple cups of maltova was not enough to re-energize. (amma should have given me coffee then!)
i rejoiced when my parents moved to madras, away from thatha's 'guantanamo bay' - madurai. thatha-payrun (grandson) meet ups reduced, and even when we did meet up, grammar was not on the agenda.
years have rolled.
now, when i turn back, i notice that the little impeccable qualities, crossword solving prowess and peter-english that i possess have their dues to the seed implanted by my dear army officer.
today is his thithi (death anniversary - 9th). in his remembrance, i raise a cup of coffee to him, without any sugar in it, the way he used to drink it.
why is it that the scent of a person is more palpable when he/she is not around ?
i miss you thatha.
to give you an essence of the shortness - when he is tempered, a crying child in the next house will freeze, put a finger on its mouth, and put one on its mother's.
as a kid, i admired him for his knowledge, but avoided the army officer. i had to keep my radar sharp, lest i would have to undergo a smartness and sharpness check by the officer, which i used to fail consistently.
periodically, he would set a trap for the evasive kid, capture me, make me sit, and teach me wren-yuck-martin. those doses of grammar sucked, and the homework he gave, zapped my energy. even multiple cups of maltova was not enough to re-energize. (amma should have given me coffee then!)
i rejoiced when my parents moved to madras, away from thatha's 'guantanamo bay' - madurai. thatha-payrun (grandson) meet ups reduced, and even when we did meet up, grammar was not on the agenda.
years have rolled.
now, when i turn back, i notice that the little impeccable qualities, crossword solving prowess and peter-english that i possess have their dues to the seed implanted by my dear army officer.
today is his thithi (death anniversary - 9th). in his remembrance, i raise a cup of coffee to him, without any sugar in it, the way he used to drink it.
why is it that the scent of a person is more palpable when he/she is not around ?
i miss you thatha.
Monday, June 9, 2008
thunderstorm memories
the thunderstorm, here today at hoboken, for some reason brought back memories of my childhood days spent in madurai and madras. whenever there was a thunderstorm, the following things were executed with alacrity...
> scurry up to the balcony to remove clothes hung-up on ropes for drying
> get the bicycle indoors, put cover over the scooter parked out in the open
> get a torch/candle into vicinity
> remove the antenna cable from back of the tv
> unplug power chord on any recently bought electricals/electronics
> make kappals (boats) out of paper from used rough notebooks
after the prep work was done, me and my brother would wait in anticipation of a power cut. power cut implies books down, some extra time for chit-chat with friends next door.
electricity board would hardly disappoint us!
> scurry up to the balcony to remove clothes hung-up on ropes for drying
> get the bicycle indoors, put cover over the scooter parked out in the open
> get a torch/candle into vicinity
> remove the antenna cable from back of the tv
> unplug power chord on any recently bought electricals/electronics
> make kappals (boats) out of paper from used rough notebooks
after the prep work was done, me and my brother would wait in anticipation of a power cut. power cut implies books down, some extra time for chit-chat with friends next door.
electricity board would hardly disappoint us!
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