Boys to Men 5: Salon Salsa

If there was anything that the lockdown did (other than cause mayhem), then it was encourage people to pursue new (and at times life saving) hacks. So suddenly people were exploring new talents. Some were welcome while some should have remained incognito. 

Did you know that Microwave ovens could do more than just reheat food? Suddenly these machines were doing what they were actually meant for. Bread, cakes, cookies, they started making them all. 

Newfound painters started going beyond the traditional ‘house with the well by the hillside’ scenario and became adventurous in their imagination.

Poets lamented about 'how the mighty humans were humbled by a virus, and how man had become a prisoner in his own home'. 

For some sad souls their primary task became counting the number of lockdown days. Some of them seem to have lost track as they still put a hashtag in their posts which reads something like ‘#lockdowndiaries; #day127oflockdown’.

What also increased was the sale of yeast as well as google/ youtube searches on how to brew your own liquor. I for one have started seeing beetroot and pineapple in new light.

Those who lost their jobs due to the pandemic could now look at an alternate albeit dark career and fulfil the dream of becoming Vijay Mallya (when he was in India selling calendars).

Wives were the most overjoyed as husbands showed keenness in helping with the household chores. Incidentally, cases of domestic abuse also rose significantly.

My first task during the lockdown was to cut my son’s hair (coz screw hidden talent!). Since he is only 4 he couldn’t fathom the damage I had done with a scissor and trimmer. At the end of an arduous half hour (arduous for my son. For me it was Da Vinci at work) my son's head looked somewhat like this.

When he looked in the mirror, it took him some time to register that it was in fact him in the mirror. And if he could abuse he probably would have. Thankfully his school syllabus has just two letter words this year.

But what goes around comes around. It was my turn to get a haircut. As I looked around for volunteers, my wife’s enthusiasm and confidence caught me by surprise. She snatched the trimmer from my son’s hand who was looking at me menacingly. We made a makeshift apron from a newspaper (courtesy Javed Habib); and set up chair in the bathroom, because my son's episode had taught me that hair can be quite a bitch while cleaning up. The newspaper was from pre lockdown era. I call it the Good Times of India (I found it amusing when I first thought of this joke and just had to include it here).

The fully charged trimmer started buzzing. The absence of a proper sized mirror made it impossible for me to look at what was happening with my hair. But the occasional gasps of my wife told me that the situation was grave. After a couple of minutes my wife went unusually silent; the silence only broken by her soft apologies; and my groans as the scissor pulled at a bunch of hair hard. But I let her continue cause there was nothing else to do. My wife and I neither spoke nor looked at each other as we cleaned up the mess. 

That was two months ago. My hair has grown back. And today I have booked professional help from Urban Company.

...to be contd