Free Words
It's not once in a blue moon that you experience a total misunderstanding about the idea of a haircut between you and your beautician. You (totally cut off from reality) give instructions to your beautician about the way you want your haircut. She also makes a show of understanding your ignorant demands. You sit down in the erected seat encircled by mirrors presenting your persona from each angle you dread to behold! ! You pray to the mirror ( as if to God ) to create magic. You imagine your divine beautician swishing her armament under a spell of professional skillful hypnotism.
You close your dreamy eyes lest the pointed scissors of the beautician injure them. However, you have to take the risk as behind your closed eyes are the rosy pictures of a perfect haircut. Ok..this rosy dream had some iota of chance of coming true if you had seen some girl next door look ravishing in that haircut.Tragically, your dreams are utopian.Why ,because the look you had planned for yourself and are waiting with bated breath to materialise into reality is inspired by some exotic fashionable celebrity.
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Now the entire exercise of the beautician moving round and around you with her comb and scissors and scrutinizing each individual strand with no partiality is enjoyed by you. As she sprays that cold water in miniscule jets on the arena of her show( your head) you feel elated as if you are the chief protagonist of that magic show. You feel assured about inching towards your dream. Then she combs the hair down and sideways and gives it long scrutinized looks. You feel awed at the way her eyesight is trained to measure without any gadget and to maintain symmetry.
You fall in love with her skill and thank God for blessing you with this skilled beautician who is about to transform you from an ordinary woman to a heavenly beauty. Then it happens! You wonder why the whole process of hair cutting is getting repeated. The beautician till now had been in a joyous mood and was chattering her head away. But suddenly she turns sombre. She doesn't speak any more. Her swish swish also smells of some eerie fishiness. You keep wondering why this haircut is getting prolonged??
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Then she reaches the ultimate stage of her job. As she clinically lifts the cloth around you to splash your discarded tresses on the ground, she pleases you with a compliment that actually you look the best in short hair. Ignorant of the tragedy, you thank her. Then she asks you to open your eyes and look at the wonder she has created. Now it's her turn to wait for compliments. You slowly open the eyes. And oh no! You fail to be convinced that the person you are seeing in the mirror is you!. You pinch yourself as a last hope of coming out of a dream.
But oh no! It's not a dream. Your wondrous hairs are all lying on the floor like fallen angels .Their fall to hell had not been planned though! You look at the beautician. She is an epitome of patience. She waits for her compliments. Words fail you and the emotions in turmoil(of anger and dejection) in the deepest recesses of your heart remain unarticulated. Finally, you regain your control and make a frail attempt to tell your dear beautician that this is not what you wanted. Nevertheless, she insists that this is what you had told her. Then, when you persist, she declares that you were unable to communicate your desires properly. As she repeatedly raises questions on your inapt communication you begin to get convinced that maybe it was you who had failed to convey properly. You are pushed into an abyss of depression while she is happily pouring eulogies on her skills.
While you are worried about how you are going to face the world, she is busy calculating her bill. So, ultimately whether you like it or not you end up paying her bill like a cultured citizen. You are left with the fate of leaving her salon and facing the world where you imagine that each living soul would criticise your new look and pass jibes at you! If you are lucky then people will use euphemisms or if you are not then they will greet you with barbed comments. As you are on the way back home, you suddenly alight on the truth that the prolonged process of haircut was a result of trial and error attempts by the supposedly skilled beautician on your property called 'hair 'which was ruthlessly plundered and the booty squandered on the floor. So, next time beware of trusting your precious tresses in the hands of a murderer of dreams! I know there is no other alternative, but then please pray for good luck.!
