These Truly Hairy Days

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by Arundhati Basu

Yesterday, I played the barber. Yesterday, I also arrived at the rapid conclusion that for all my sins, I am not cut out to be one.

For some time now, Adi has been whingeing about the mountain of hair that has been steadily foaming above his head. I have been ignoring it for the most part because hoovering up hair, getting rid of those tiny stubborn bits that stick to the nooks — however fond of cleaning I might be — is not my jam. And really, as much as I do adore the thought of my hair being snipped and whipped into shape at a salon, I cannot bring myself to take on any level of salon activities at home. When I want to get rid of the pesky grey hairs that pop up at the temples, I go to the salon. When I want a fringe, I head to the salon. When I want a hair spa, I make an appointment at the salon. I think by now, you have it figured. The gist of my feelings about what came my way next.

We had spent a lazy Sunday afternoon watching a nice film, concluded with double shots of espresso and slices of raspberry pecan coffee cake, when Adi got up and declared that we were going to tackle his hair. “Wha..?” I wanted to faint, which my husband would not allow. He meant business.

Man on a mission, he set up the bathroom. A chair plonked in the middle of it. Fetched the worst pair of scissors one can use to snip hair. Kitchen scissors. But next to it lay an impressive caboodle of hair clippers.

Now, imagine handing a pair of clippers to an individual who has not given a single hair cut in her whole blooming life. The only time I played with giving myself a fringe was an experiment gone wrong. I can tell you about the drawbacks of a too-short fringe till the cows come home. But I think I shall stick to this particular event.

Armed with the clippers, I started at the nape. First, I raised the bottom hairline. Safe to say, it now rests above his lower ear lobes.

“Way too short!” pronounced the subject in tones that would not and could not hide heavy notes of dismay. After I made an allowance for the customary moaning and frowning, I got back to the task. I had not even begun properly, and I was yet ready to be done with it. Sheared the back of the head. For all the world, I could have been shearing sheep. That thought made me howl with laughter. Convulsions that alarmed the subject so that he could not keep turning his head at the mirror from time to time, to keep a check on this very odd barber. Psst: The best part is, he could not see the back of his head. We do not have one of those big rectangular vanity mirrors they use at the salon to show you the effect of the hairdresser’s artistry on the rear portion of the head. What a fortunate thing.

When you use kitchen scissors that ain’t all that sharp to handle thick hair, you end up with hair flying all over yourself. Which you promptly dump on the subject. Because well, it is his hair. He might as well get the brunt of it. He did try to interject the proceedings with, “I am not your dumping ground”. But did he stand a chance?

I will not bore you further with the nitty-gritties of executing a hair cut, the way the scissors flew, the hacking around with no particular aim, or the hot mess in the bathroom after. But I will leave you with this that there are enough bald spots on the unsuspecting husband’s head, a bizarre semi-buzz cut at the wings, not by design, but all happenstance. Today, during a video call, his dad pronounced it to be a punk cut.

But the good news folks is that I am done with it.

Now, there’s only rest for the wicked.

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Arundhati Basu

The great affair in my life is to travel. I count myself immensely fortunate that my partner shares this passion. We are a team that likes to spend time planning and plotting out places to go. Destination check, flights check, accommodation check, cheesy grins check. Off we go.

33 thoughts on “These Truly Hairy Days”

  2. Haha I am thinking I will face the same situation soon! My husband has started complaining about his growing hair, and I for one do not intend to do the barber’s work. I tried once and it was a 5 hour long fest, it didn’t turn out that bad but all that for what! Back then there was no Corona either. My husband likes experiments 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Pooja, consider this my dire warning for all sisters out there facing a similar situation. *shakes her head with concern

      How on earth did you have the patience to spend 5 hours on hair?! I was out in 30 mins. Even that felt like an hour.

      If the husband likes experimentation, promote the idea of a sexy top bun? x

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I love the image of his hair ‘foaming above his head’ …. I’m afraid he asked for this and will now have to live with it. Hat, anyone? This just made me laugh and laugh. But like the old adage of dropping a plate on the floor if you are asked to do the washing up at the home of a friend, I imagine you will not be asked to repeat your barbarous attack on his pate! Chapeau Dotty – this is a cracker of a tale!!! Xx

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  9. Hi ma’amji. I don’t know what is wrong with WP. It seems to “unfollow” my preferred bloggers on its own whim. Grrr. I was wondering how you were dealing with confinement. How long did the haircut last?
    Stay well, stay safe. 🙏🏻😷
    Phir milenge dost.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Brianji, I am dealing alright with it. Have no complaints for the most part. Life has been utterly idyllic and I fear am become more of a recluse (if that was possible) — at peace with hair that has not seen the insides of a salon in months. Curiously, husband’s hair is in place. Last, he tried shearing his own hair at the back of the head. Which meant two massive bald patches — and me in stitches when he came to show off his handiwork. He finally needed the wife’s golden touch to set it right.

      How are your fam and you coping with lockdown?

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Glad you take life with a grain of salt. There are hair clippers who do a proper job sans patches. 😉 ask your friendly Amazon…
        Coping is correct. We didn’t see our daughters and grandkids for 3 months, then MD daughter #1 and hubby (MD too) caught the virus. Was to be expected. hardly any symptom. a fortnight quarantine, then we are now able to see them and daughter #2 who argued she’d been in complete lockdown. So we also get the grandkids for the day on occasions which is exhausting but lovely…
        Phir milenge, dost.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. He achieved this work of art with clippers. If you will imagine that. And it is a fine set of clippers that I treated his whole head to thereafter. It was most pleasurable (for me). The tables have turned and Adi will not have me anywhere near his hair.

        I am so sorry to hear about your daughter and her husband contracting the virus. It would have been so worrying. Glad to know that the rest of you are hanging in there. As for the grandkids, their job is to keep their grandparents perked up, non? Phir milenge, Brianji.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. He could wear it long for the time being. No prob’
        Actually about their getting the virus, they suffered practically no symptom. Plus they didn’t tell us, so we had no time to worry. And after the fact, it was actually a good news. We could all see each other again. Hurray!
        🙏🏻

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