THE INDIAN BARBER

Perrine has decided her hair is too long and she is tired to look like a hedgehog. We see behind our guesthouse, in the labyrinth of the old city a little hairdresser shop. It is quite a rare thing to find a hairdresser is not only a barber but takes also women in. The owner looks like Gandhi, just smaller version. He is very sympathetic, speaks no English, wears very thick round glasses and agrees for the hair cut. Perrine has a good intuition about him. 40 ruppies, perfect price, let’s do it. But surprise, Gandhi will cut the hair but supervise his apprentice very attentively, smoking a biddy. The apprentice asks what Perrine wants, she says shorter, shows with her finger the average length she would like (10 cm) and the man takes the scissors. The sound of snipping scissors never stops. It is like a dance performed. His gestures were absolutely precise and completed. The scissors go and round rhythmically. The hair gets shorter and shorter accordingly. Then comes the shaving blade. And snips, snips around the ears, at the start of the neck. A bit more and he is going to take care of the beard! He is done, he asks if it’s good, Perrine is a bit in shock and says yes. He adds that he made a female cut and not a man’s cut. It was clearly the first time he cut a woman’s hair, and he probably hasn’t seen much examples of women with short hair. To his defense, Indian women don’t have or exceptionally short hair. It’s ok. Hair grows back and it was cut on full moon (so it grows back faster). Life depends on the way you look at it. Now Perrine has something of a little Indian boy. People call her “sir” or “mister” and hardly talk to Cécile anymore. In India, one never talks to a woman if a man is around. We don’t know if it is a mark of respect, a cultural habit, if women are disregarded in general… But sure it is an unpleasant feeling.

Hello Sir. Boat ?