Don’t think any Malaysians from my generation had not been to an Indian barber in the neighbourhood. Image (Source)
My first experience of going to a barber was back in the old neighbourhood where the barber was actually the neighbour who lived in the same row of houses like us. Being a good friend of my dad, he often cut our hair as short as possible even though we tried our best to get him to cut in the latest styles.
(Considering how criminals these days being bold on their act, this may look funny but it is hardly a laughing matter, especially when it is not safe to venture out these days. Psst, the whole ATM machines still get “screwed” to this day. Image source: http://www.flickriver.com)
The whole of last week, I was so busy with work and other stuff (excuses, excuses) that I did not have time to shave.
I started to look like a Neanderthal man – unshaven and the moustache & beard had grown like a wild bush. I started to look sick, so much so some of colleagues started asking me whether I was having a problem or was having a fever. I entered the lift with a senior colleague of mine last week and I noticed she was staring at me and before she could open her mouth, I said “Had no time to shave”. She looked a bit shocked but replied “I was about to ask you on that”. I said to myself “Why I am not surprised?” I need to shave before the start of next week.
(Haircut of the extreme! Image source: http://www.chinatoday.com)
Went to the barber last week and I remembered a story that happened when I was studying law. One of the lecturers, who always sported a thick long hair for a very long time, came in to our class one day with a very short hair (as short as those inmates in Pusat Serenti)