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To That Barber Who Always Managed To Ruin My Hairstyle, F*ck You Bro!


He?? Yes him, a Barber. Yes, it does. It does feel bad, very bad. When someone cheats us, especially barbers. How can they cheat? They cut your hair and ask to be paid wisely. That's what everyone thinks. But about cutting hair, no one thinks. We grow our hair, and ask a barber in saloon to cut it as we wish. Then barber, of course not from our region, might be from other region, state, etc, who don’t understand a single penny of what we say or conversely we don’t understand anything of which he blabbers. By the help of our fragments of knowledge about their language, will try to make them understand about our wishes on our haircut.

He pretends that he had understood it and was ready with his weapons i.e., scissors, different kinds of combs and some sort of machines. Then would cover us with a blanket and would water my lawn of hairs. Finally starts gardening. My heart would beat very fast when he cuts my hair. But still have some hopes on him and wait till he use some blades and finish his war. After he tells “Bhayya, Ho Gaya”, I would ask the mirror there to show ‘me’, instead of some bustard with weird haircut! Now he would start charging for his hard work in ruining my ‘beauty’, and unluckily my Wallet would be holed.

Once it happened to me in Karnataka, my hometown, where the barbers were from North India. Almost all the saloons were under their reign. I, living in a city called Mangalore, would browse for that saloon which is ruled by local people. With that first hope, I entered a Saloon named “Hrithik”. At the entrance, I stopped a minute and remembered that day when I challenged my friends that my haircut would be the best one this time. Then, with that challenge on my palm, holding it tightly and not letting it to fall, this being second hope. Now I also had a thought that, ‘Would I end up like Hrithik Roshan after getting hair cut from here?’ this comes as my third hope. 

Well, inside a guy directed me to a chair and I agreed and looked into the mirror for my hair for the last time. He, with his mouth shut, got a blanket and covered me. Brought his weapons, and asked “Kya Karoon?”. For the hell’s sake, my first hope was killed ruthlessly. With no option, I had to speak in Hindi and answer his question. Then I answered with another question “Kya Kya Kar Sakthe Ho?”. The BHAIYYA then threw some words such as “box cut, half box cut, chuha cut, cabbage cut, short, medium, police cut, military cut, veg cut” and said that these were the haircuts. 

He then asked money for his ’halkat’ and I had to pay for my ‘bad fate’. My second and third hopes were clean shaved. Instead Hrithik roshan ended up like bald old neighbor. My friends, frankly, recognized me as a stranger until I made them realize. That week was my worst nightmare as my hair style was ruined and so was my face. So, screw you, man. Seriously screw you. And do the world a favour, just quit your job!