POEM: SULTANS OF SHAVE

THE SULTANS OF SHAVE

       – Ranga Sitaram

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here you let go and sit back,

For you are in the sure hands

Of the quintessential 

Indian Barber.

.

Be it Serangoon Road,

Woo Manchu Street, or Southampton, 

The ever-smiling Mr. Karthigesu, Murusamy, or Poniahchetty

Greets you in with, vanakkam, eppadi irukinga?

.

In the spartan yet snug setting, 

A chair is shown, 

Swift hands swoop down with a sheetcover,

Polite queries are made: machine or scissors sir?

.

Big palms engulf your head,

Brush your hair with soothing strokes,

Sprays of sprinkly cold water follow, 

And lilting Tamil songs on the old Murphy radio engulf you: ninaithale …

.

A big comb straightens,

Parts your hair, readies it for 

Cold scissors to snip at, or a 

Hair mower to scrape over with familiar stuccato sounds.

.

Coiffeurs prattle with each other,

With waiting customers,

With laidback  bench sitters,

And all the yak lullabies you to a half-awake somnostate.

.

Large tufts of long forgotten hair

Fall off from your hirsute head 

On to your shoulders, lap, and

Into the unsealed gaps to itch at your neck and back.

.

You wish to spring up, 

Shrug everything off, and 

Scratch satisfactorily at the itches,

But modesty keeps you seated.

.

The all knowing, benevolent beautician

Scrubs your neck with white powder 

To relieve you of your misery:

And you thank him gleefully – nandri!

.

Now then, the job is done

The sheet is swiftly shrugged out,

A mirror brought out for you to

Check the masterpiece of the tensorial artist.

.

Hairs on head and shoulder are dusted,

Your shirt collars are loosened

Your head consecrated with masseur’s oil,

And much awaited crowning stroke follows.

.

The barber turns to a pleasure giving performer;

A sequence of splendid rhythms,

Rhymes and percussion patterns are played

On your head with the deftness of tabla player.

.

The crescendo ends on your neck and back

Leaving you with heightened ecstasy.

Feeling loose, lugubrious, 

And more alive than ever before.

.

Notes and coins get exchanged

You stumble out 

Thanking the eternal life-giver

The inimitable Indian barber.

~~~~***~~~~