There is a vibrant culture at Bobby Barber's saloon. It is the hub of the who's who of our colony. With Bobby the barber in the driving seat, his scissorhands merrily and blissfully chopping off hair in a manner of deep oblivion. Like a charmer or a saint when set on his job, he is immune to all the bitching (It's a men's saloon and yes, men bitch too!). His hands boast of proliferated nerves easily evident in the half-sleeved T-shirt Bobby adorns all year through. In an animated conversation once, I asked him how he braves the chilly Delhi winter in that cotton T-shirt. He just smiled and retorted, "Do you know my Abba never wore anything besides a vest and dhoti and of course his all favourite skullcap, all his life? Allah has bestowed on us this power. Whatever I have today is his grace only." True. I thought. Faith is such a powerful phenomenon. People have moved mountains with unshakable faith.
As can be evidently guessed Bobby Barber is a Muslim. And a staunch one at that. But more proud than being a Muslim, his torso swells with pride at being Indian. If ever there has been an Indian, it's him. And it was all the more impressed on me as I remember enjoying the chilling finale of the T20 world cup at his saloon. Just me and him. I remember lauding every step Dhoni and boys made towards victory and swearing in the same breath every time the Pakistani team scored a winning point. Bobby is a stout man somewhere in his late thirties or early forties. A head adorned with superficial curls and a moustache which keeps changing in density, right from none at all to a very bushy one and back to zilch. His skill is above par and no two views about it. However, is rudely restrained by finances and therefore his saloon, rather barber shop, hardly boasts of anything even close to what the burgeoning chic metropolitan saloons have to offer. Nevertheless, it's his affability and personal touch which draws people including me to his shop. If he is not busy with a customer, Bobby has something to talk to anybody and everybody, be it a kid or a grand father. I like his expertise with kids. Even the most pesky of kids have been heard of succumbing to his charms, including this particular kiddo who was heard to have, at a point of time, wreaked Bobby's shop, adamant on not getting a haircut. No matter how much of coaxing by his scared mom, how much of baiting by his peeved dad, but he wouldn't get under the scissors for anything. And I really don't know what Bobby said to him or how he managed it, this particular kiddo is willing to get a haircut even before his parents are sure he needs it.
Every Sunday morning Bobby's saloon becomes a meeting turf for the colony aficionados, with the sundry Mandir committee members, Welfare Association or the park joggers club all joining in the revelries. It is on Sunday that Bobby is in his real element, after all Sunday is his busy day. And it is on Sunday you get to see even the most hardened snobs of the colony turn chivalrous. No one is in a hurry. Everyone is willing to let go of his turn at the barber's throne to anyone who is willing. It's the centre for all the colony gossip and bitching as I mentioned before. Sometimes things get as nasty as a Parliament meet in progress, but Bobby is smart at handling all that. He does it with a penchant. And that is why Bobby is adored by all. And religion issues? Who heard of them anyways? We are a secular country and ahoy! we are glad about it. Aren't we? Jai Ho!