Sarju, looked like a simple and mild-mannered man. Checked shirt smartly tucked in. A sense of urgency to get things done and be off. He had an over packed bag, much like an office bag, only one that it had a whole barber shop waiting to burst out and set itself up. Sarju was my dear friend's hairstylist and groomer designate.
Kartik really needed a hair cut and he was about to have one in style ; in the comfort of his living room by a mobile professional who was just a mobile call away.
The Indian's were on their way to a win in the India Pak Hutch cup at Multan. The crowds were ecstatic and so was Sarju, who got to see the match while at work.
I watched as Sarju, quickly set up a makeshift 'workstation' of sorts. Carefully laying down newspaper in a fixed square area so that the mess could be disposed of as quickly as possible. He rushed in an out of carry a warm tub for 'Saheb' to soak in his feet for his pedicure. He then pulled out a fresh white cotton wrap neatly folded and waiting to be unfurled in a ritual display of pre-snip preparation.
Off he went snipping away to shape Kartik's mane back into civilised norms. I must say he did a fantastic job and proved to me that the mirror in the barber shop is a total sham. Sarju never needed one, and what does the victim do once the carnage has started.
Kartik enjoyed every bit of his Sunday indulgence and I couldn't help reminiscing those scenes of big time landlords (usually the villian) getting a shave and massage while their peered out into their estate. Even better , Naseeruddin Shah in Mirch Masala with his gramaphone playing in the foreground.
Sarju, the barber of Gurgaon. Hair-cutting by invitation only.
