masterwordsmith-unplugged

I grew up in an extended family network where four families lived together with my grandmother, first aunt and her adopted daughter in an old pre-war house along Malacca Street. As a little girl, the house was a palace to me for it had six rooms and three halls. Apart from my family, there was 5th aunt and her family, 7th aunt (who passed away last November) and my first uncle's family that lived at the other section of the house.

My 6th aunt would visit together with her older boy, Hoy, who is my closest cousin (his pic is in one of the posts I put up a few days ago. Hoy is older than me by only six months. Yet, for the greater part of our childhood, I was taller than him and used to call the shots in games :-) but things changed when he suddenly shot up when we were both 11.

One of the things we dreaded most was going to the barber. Now you must be wondering, hmmm this old lady who has nothing to do but blog must have lost her marbles. Why am I thinking about barbers? Nope. It is not because I watched Sweeney Todd (which I love to bits cos it features Johnny Depp hmmm). Neither is it because I just listened to The Barber of Seville, an Opera by Gioacchino Antonio Rossini.

It is because for so many weeks, I had been so absorbed with my predicament that I did not realize till today that BY JOVE - my son's hair is like a MOP!!!! Yup! I am finally living a normal life now after yesterday. I can see tiny cobwebs at the corners of the ceiling. I can see how my beloved hamster, Mishy, has aged so much and wants to play with me endlessly because I had been neglecting him and I can see how the seeds my son planted has now developed into a papaya sapling.

So I started to tell my son about my childhood exploits while he tried to make me listen to his corny jokes - something that I had not been doing for a couple of weeks (such as: What were Tarzan's last words? Answer: Who greased my vine?).

One of the things I remember most was how wickedly happy I used to feel when the Indian barber did his rounds at our home. Being female, I was spared the snip snap twist crack routine if you know what I mean.

The distinguished elderly Indian gentleman would be fully garbed in a white dhoti, white sarong and a white dot on his forehead. He would cycle around the neighbourhood and ring his bicycle bell signifying his imminent arrival that was dreaded by my male cousins while the girls would clap gleefully as we would get to watch the supposedly stronger and more macho breed of the family squirm, scream and gyrate to the horror of the Indian uncle.

Once hailed down by any one of the aunts, the Indian barber would push his bicycle into our ancestral home after my older cousin opened the huge front door. Getting off his bicycle, he would smile at us and say hello. At that point, the boys did a Houdini and mind you, in that old house, there was plenty of room to hide. Walking to the stool prepared by yours truly, he would take out his small blue box, snap it open, and with a swish swoosh movement, would unravel the white cloth to be used.

Then the aunts would shout at the top of their voices while I would sit nearby, arms folded (Gosh! I really wish I had a camera then) and wait to see the ordeal. The highlight of the so-called rite of passage was the crick-crack neck twisting motion, reserved heheh as a treat for those who survived till the end.

Upon hearing this, my son asked, "Er....mom, surely you are NOT thinking of putting me through all that jazz?"

"What a splendid idea, son!!" was my quick retort and with the snap of my fingers we were off to an Indian barber shop.

"Do you know where to find an Indian barber?" asked Nick.

"Not really. I vaguely remember there is one along Batu Lancang Lane," I replied.

He said sheepishly, "Well mom, I am sure they are closed."

"Not unless they are married to Chinese and are celebrating Chinese New Year," I said.

In a jiffy, while slowing down after the traffic light, hip-hip-hurray. I found it!

I parked my car and we got out. To my surprise, the shop had Gong Xi Fa Cai banners strung here and there and when I entered the shop, I was greeted by Chinese lanterns and those pineapple decorative items hung from the ceiling.

I greeted the barber with a Nan kar di li ki rein and he looked at me in horror and I repeated the phrase which means "How are you?" in Tamil. My best friend throughout my secondary school was a lovely Indian girl, my classmate, bus sekolah mate and my neighbour and of course, I picked up some Tamil along the way. With a smile, he invited us to have a seat to await my son's turn.

"Please tell them NOT to do the neck thingy," said Nick.

"Oh - but that is the climax of the routine," I replied. Gosh, in my previous life, I must have been a wicked witch haha!

Soon, it was his turn.
Now what does his expression say? Simply, "Mom, if you put it in Facebook and tag me, I will never ever speak to you again." If looks could kill....*wink*
It seemed that Nick's gyrations were in tempo to the upbeat Indian pop song that was being played...
Now when the barber (who hails from Tamil Nadu and has been here for three years and married to a local - er yours truly interviewed him lah) those gyrations turned to giggles that were so infectious that not only did his mother crack up but the barber laughed as well while trying to the best of his ability to maintain his composure. After shaving the nape of his neck, he reached out for some powder. WHAM BAM! It was exactly the same talcum powder that the elderly gentleman used.
I could not believe my eyes. And the barber thought I was a lunatic when I started taking pics of the bottle of talcum powder.

Then I asked the proverbial question. Are you going to twist his neck? Another Indian customer kindly translated it for me and the barber explained in Tamil which was duly translated by the customer.

"He is too young, madam," much to my son's relief. So the barber proceeded to fluff around Nick's neck with a powder puff in an attempt to remove the evidence of his exercise. Hey presto, behold, my son!!!
And it only cost me 3RM.

I thanked him and told him, "You are very good!" with a thumbs-up sign.

To my surprise (in fact, I nearly fainted and you will too when I tell you his response!!!!!HAHAHA!)

"And you are very beautiful," he replied most charmingly hahahahahaha!!!!!!

"Thank you" was my reply as Nick and I roared with rib-cracking laughter....With that, we made our exit and Nick was very happy.

As I drove out, Nick said, "Mom, let's come here again." I asked him why and he pointed to a banner which read "PERCUMA UNTUK ORANG YANG BERKURANG UPAYA" and I was so deeply touched by the barber's generosity - despite the fact that he and his partner hail from India, they do not hesitate to show love and care to those who need it!

Have a nice day folks!