Just A Haircut

Colourful bottles,

All shapes and sizes.

Smell of talc

Densely filled the air.

The evergreens of Bollywood 

Sang the old cranky sonogram.

The seats though worn out 

Lacks no comfort.

The buzzing of the small trimmer 

Resonating the room often

Louder than the whimpering antique.

Though his hair is snow white

And hands wrinkled,

He is quick and smooth.

He runs his hand through the hair.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

He looks through the 

Old worn spectacles with utmost concentration.

The experienced hands worked rhythmically.

When he was done and the customer made his payment,

He smiled and he was young again just like,

When I first saw him.

Nothing changed in him and around him.

The shop was old and dingy as it always was.

He opened the old glass jar and

Took out the bittersweet candy

And handed it out to the customer.

My face lit up

For I was here for the candy.

The customer refused with a polite smile

And his face was old and wrinkled again.

The customer was new undoubtedly 

Cause of many waiting outside,

Looked forward for the candy.

For the small boys, it was their first haircut.

And for the old men, a chance to chit chat .

My turn was up and he knew how I liked it.

My eyes were on the jar the whole time 

And when he was done and the payment  made,

I stood patiently almost drooling over the candy.

He opened it and 

Took out not one

But two and gave it to me.

My joy knew no bounds

As I hugged him tight 

And whispered in his ear,

“Thank you, Papa.

Have to rush,

Maa is waiting home to take her to church.

See you next month.”

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