As a kid, my grandfather would take me for a haircut. It used to be on Sundays. People would wait for their turns, sitting in a cramped place, glued in newspapers and a small television set at the corner or the shop, playing Rangoli tele-serial. I would sit on a wooden plank placed over the chair armrest to adjust my height and got the best haircut in the town.
Cut short to when I went to Singapore the first time. After postponing the plan umpteen number of times out of fear, I finally was forced to go to hair saloon else I was risking getting disbarred at the client place! The hairdresser was a Chinese, a lady who did not know English. It gave me a big cultural shock. I wanted to postpone yet again. I persisted. I made a small prayer. I somehow managed to explain to her that I wanted uniform hair across my head. I pulled an old photo and showed it to her to ensure she got it right. The bald fade is the most popular hairstyle among the locals, and I was damn scared of!
Those moments still gives me goosebumps, having saved my face, literally!