A close shave!

No, this is not a blog of a near-death experience, seeing the white light and bearded old man at the end of the tunnel or about how evaded a catastrophic situation. It is about my experiences with the barber, particularly Indian barbers.
From time in memory, Malaysian Indian barbers have been hairstyling our mane even before Merdeka. They have been a part and parcel of Malaysian culture. Even Lat, the famous Malaysian cartoonist, has depicted them in many of his comic strips, mostly in a comical way (duh!). They initially started as mobile vendors, with their tools of the trade nicely tucked in a debilitated probably second hand or hand-me-downs leather suitcase and everywhere they lay their hat was their workplace. Now, they offer the luxury of air-conditioned shops and clean utensils (at least they use disposable blades). They are however, less innovative compared to the ultra new modern unisex saloons in terms of styling, perming, dyeing and washing. Just like in  Lat's illustration, you can show the Indian barber pictures of latest hairstyle that you want him to cut, he will eventually cut only in the standard way that he knows.
Just like how the medical profession had chosen the emblem of two snakes intertwined around a twig / dagger as their common logo, barbers around the world are unison in displaying a 'revolving blue and red ribbon stripe' on a barber's pole (a glass cylinder that contained a revolving white cylinder with a red stripe and a blue stripe painted in a spiral around it, so that, as it revolved, the red, white, and blue “ribbons” appeared to be steadily moving) at their entrance to signify their profession. As we know, surgeons had their roots in barbers. The early physicians shoved the surgical and messy component of treatment who at time were performing surgical feats. Probably, they did not call in the mutton butchers as they appeared too gruesome! That is why, in some countries, surgeons are referred to as Mr. So-and-So rather than Dr So-and-So. The medical emblem is said to resemble the carvings on the staff (baton) of Asclepius, the Greek God of Medicine, but it features only one snake.  There is yet another theory on the evolution of this emblem. In medieval times, cutaneous larva migrans (a skin parasite, Ancylostoma braziliense / Strongyloides stercoralis,  which burrowed into people's skin to cause morbidly intense itching) seem to have been a big problem. Physicians then may have paralyzed the nematodes with turpentine and used twigs to skew out the dead parasites. And this scenario was immortalized by the medical fraternity!
Barber poles are said to have originated from the medieval medical practice of bloodletting. Barbers performed surgery and tooth extractions in those times, as well. The pole had a brass basin at the top (which represented the container for blood-letting leeches) and another at the bottom for receiving the blood. The pole represented the staff a patient grasped to hasten the blood flow.

Barber pole

The stripes grew out of the bandages used in France during medical procedures. Hung outside the theater of operations to dry, bandages would blow in the wind and wrap themselves around the pole in a spiral pattern. A painted wooden pole of red and white stripes replaced this as an emblem of the barber/surgeon’s profession, then the mesmerizing mobile ones: “On countless noons Will had stood here trying to unravel that ribbon, watch it come, go, end without ending.”
Ref:http://www.bookdrum.com/books/something-wicked-this-way-comes/9780575083066/bookmarks.html
Upon entry into a Indian barber shop, you would be forgiven for thinking that you have somehow entered a black-hole and materialized in a shop in Chennai. There would be blasting Tamil song on the radio either from Minnal FM or THR Ragaa (Ah..ah sirantha isai). Everybody would be engaged in conversation (i.e. barber and clients). This is where one can improve their command of the Tamil language- the barber will converse in the language, you can read Tamil newspapers and magazines. And this place shall be where you can update your Bollywood and Kollywood knowledge via their monthly subscription of Indian Movie News!

Within the confines of his kingdom (his shop), the barber is king. He will have an obstinate opinion about every current happening of the world, especially on Indian and Malaysian Indian politic matters and he insists on having the last say on everything. All customers have no choice but to nod in unison to whatever the Man has to say as it quite difficult to disagree with someone who has placed a blade at your jugular!
My first haircut in RRF was in a shop at Block B. It was run by a bespectacled Mr Balu (a.k.a. Kannadi Master as Appa refers to him). He had a small face covered by a over-sized pair of spectacles which was obviously too big for his face and was loosely hanging from his ears, needing constant adjustment as he carries on with his tonsorial artistry!  Just like in Lat's cartoon, you can show and tell how you want your hair to be fashioned with pictures and pin-ups. At the end of the day, you will still get your good old GI cut!  Mr Balu married a morbidly shy lady from India who would be forever be draped in her thick saree and be 'hiding' at the back of the unlit part of the shop and be just staring into thin air listening to the radio whilst the kids would be monkeying around the RRF compounds playing cops-and-robbers in the scorching heat of the afternoon tropical sun. Mr Balu would be yelling for them to study with no avail and sometimes resorting help from his friend, the brutal Mr Rotan (the rattan cane). Balu would also sometimes ask his customers to advise his kids on the necessity of education and the need to study hard. I suppose, a decade later, in a similar scenario, Madonna would sing 'Papa, don't preach!' Even I, an innocent bystander watching the whole antic, was roped in to advise his kids when he discovered that I was doing well in studies and was in PFS!
Just like that in, in every other place that I stayed, there would be an Indian Barber shop nearby which I would faithfully patronize: In Gelugor, Klang, Kuala Pilah, Seremban, Melaka, Tampoi and Kuala Lumpur. When I was studying in Kubang Kerian, Kelantan, at least when I was there in 1986-88, there were no Indian barber shops nearby. All my fellow mates and I used to have our monthly hair styling job at one particular Malay barber in Kota Bharu. The barbers in that shop were so hygienic. All the barbers were dressed in a white overall coat on top of their regular clothes and the drapes were changed with each customer. These guys had the softest and gentlest pair of hands comparable only to a lady's touch. They were so gentle with every tilt and move of your head that you could literally doze off before you actually realize that the session is over. And you do not feel or hear the clinging of the scissors shearing away your prized well -cared-for mane.
During my attachment in Edinburgh, I was heart-broken to pay the barber there ₤15 (if my memory does not fail me) which I had to pay through my nose to appear presentable so that I can be mingle amongst the local crowd to prepare myself for the exams. About that time I also parted from my dear beloved mustache, too. There were two lame reasons for this. Firstly, in the 90s in the UK, most gays were mustachioed. (Self explanatory: Not to sent the wrong vibes!). And secondly, not to appear so 'Indian'. Now, what does that even mean? Well, it has been an accepted 'wise teaching' from seniors who have sat for the similar exams that Malaysian candidates must somehow impress upon their English examiners that we are Malaysians and not Indian Indians or Hong Kies. Indians and Hong Kies tend to stay back in the UK, hog the system, fight for the same posts with the local Britishers and were generally argumentative during the viva voce, sometimes challenging the examiners themselves! Malaysian tend to pass the exams and leave. (at least it use to be)
And it worked for me...
Examiner: Well, Dr, how would you manage this patient in your hospital?
Me: In my hospital back home in Malaysia.... (giving ample time for them to digest)
Examiner: Oh, you are from Malaysia? Being the rich country that you are...
And the viva voce progressed well without a hitch...
Coming back to the barbers' story....There is nothing much more to say, is there?
Well, between 1997 and 2007, I used to use the services at Lingam's which I briefly mentioned at another post (Legacy Lost?)
' "Talking about continuing the old man's legacy, I just remembered my old barber, Lingam who succumbed to heart attack 3 or 4 years ago. When he was alive, he ran a small barber shop near our Taman. He was a mild mannered man who had only nice things to say about everything. This is a stark anomaly to most of the Indian barbers that we are accustomed to, who are strongly opinionated and you tend to agree with them as they would holding a blade at your jugular! In fact I would writing about them soon. (in midst of drafting)
Lingam's had a small following of loyal customers who actually sang praises of his simpleton way of life and his cordialness in a letter to the editor of 'The Star', our national newspaper. As always, all good things came to an end. Like Joni Mitchell sang in Big Yellow Taxi..."Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got till it's gone...They paved paradise, And put up a parking lot...." Lingam died after his first fatal attack at the age of 54. (What do you know, you cannot have a second fatal attack, can you? You only live once. He had been a diabetic but kept himself trim. His morbidly over-sized chronically lethargic wife with a plethora of diseases have outlived him thus far. Perhaps, God wanted Lingam to be by his side to meet to the his tonsorial needs up in heaven!
Lingam sudden demise caught the family by surprise. His heir was a 17 year old teenager who had bigger plans on his mind - undergraduate and law studies and so forth. So, the widow hired some young punks to continue the business. After some disagreement, she got an elderly man to run the show. After a few no-shows by the replacement barber, the premises is now permanently shut. And all the loyal followers have moved on to other barbers around there. Life goes on...another legacy lost!'"
And the curtains come down on this posting but as long as Malaysians stay as Malaysians and stay miserly and thrifty with their ringgit and sen, the culture of Malaysian Indian barbers is here to stay and their curtain will be forever open to usher you to their barber's revolving chair.
You can bring in a newborn baby and inquire about their experience with balding a neonate, they will have a tall story and their reply would be, "Boss, semua boleh!" (Boss, can do!) And the results would be pretty much, pretty good and pretty cheap too!