Bollywood Menz Salon

 

Bollywood Menz Salon

Gabriel and Peter were two regulars at the Bollywood Menz Salon owned by Jafar and Junaid. They were two competitive business partners in the posters and billboards industry. Jafar and Junaid were brothers, two sons of a dead couple who had once fled Karachi over a murmur that Hindustan was going to be democratic and secular. Destiny wanted it this way or was it God’s plan, they inherited this shop from their parents and called it Bollywood Menz Salon. They were cinema crazy! Classics, blockbusters, lyrical masterpieces, posters… They were fanatics of movies and movie stars. They met Gabriel and Peter when they were looking for top quality graphic decoration for their barbershop. The collectibles they found and the posters they were able to put up in their shop really made the salon look ever bit worthy of its name. From the walls to the windows their barbershop was a colorful delight for the eyes to cherish. Tunes of Bollywood songs always played in the stereo whenever the shop was open for customers and the music always left the visitors feeling blue.

Jafar – the careful - was sweeping the floor. It was an early Saturday morning. Glued to the TV set, Junaid was skipping through channels to keep that filmy air of the place sacred.

Gabriel and Peter were not really 'frequenters' of the shop because, well, Peter’s hair always took a long time to grow and frankly Gabriel was losing his hair. They entered discussing the growing intolerance in the neighborhood. “Everyone is equal and some are more equal than others, huh?” Peter said. Jafar looked at them like he would at any other first customers of the day. He was hoping that it will be a pleasant day. But this argument that Gabriel and Peter were having was something which resonated with every thinking mind these days and Jafar couldn’t help but get drawn into it. He was a listener. Gabriel’s voice was loud, he said in reply, “Let it be, what have you got to do? Put your flag on the staff?”

“Brother, if this isn’t the tone one takes with an enemy then what is it?” Peter asked Jafar.

“People need enemies so that they can feel united with those they consider their own kind”, Jafar said.

“Such unity of the people! Dear God, we might as well be living in the United States of America” Gabriel taunted.

“No nation is ever perfect”, Jafar added.

Junaid got up finding a decent movie to watch on channel Sahara. “Come, sit”, he told Gabriel. They moved near the counter. Gabriel kept his mobile, glasses and wallet on the marble slab and sat down. Junaid began with his usual hair-cutting routine.

“We are witnessing ghettoization, I’m telling you” said Peter. “This whole world will become a ghetto, divided with labels one can hardly even comprehend for themselves. I am feeling existential myself. Wonder what category of people I will fit in.”

“Poor, probably”, Gabriel laughed.

“What did you say?”, Peter asked. “You called me poor? I’m doing okay for myself. I don’t need to hear anything from you about it.” He reached for the newspaper, sat back in the sofa in the other corner of the shop and began to read. While Gabriel was getting his hair cut, every now and then, Peter would marvel loudly at the occurrences from around the country mentioned in the daily, critiquing them, criticizing them and worrying for the world. “If the liquor ban was to ever get imposed here, I wonder how you would survive a day, Gabriel” he said mockingly. Then he went on to find something else in the paper and put Gabriel down with it somehow. Gabriel was fuming but he never uttered a word. He just sighed. Jafar didn’t like this banter so he intervened. “Why have you always got to pull poor Gabriel’s leg, Peter? Brother Gabriel, did you bring those posters I asked you to?” Gabriel nodded quietly. Junaid was almost done with him. “Here”, Peter said and produced a roll of posters from his side. Jafar reached for them with great care and fondness.

He stood there with the unrolled bunch of posters, mesmerized. “I like this one the most”, he said smiling. “Which one?” Junaid asked childishly, wrapping up Gabriel’s job. He came near Jafar and peaked at the poster in front of him. “It’s beautiful”, he exclaimed.

It was a graphic fully burnt-out print of the Bollywood star Shahid Kapoor. In the poster he was smiling, but there was pain in his eyes. The duo considered the poster pure art. They were immediately gaga over it. Junaid washed his hands and went out with it to put it up on the window by the front door. It was surely something to be exhibited.

In the meantime, Gabriel told Peter, “You complain a lot. Did anything happen? Everybody knows things are bad, why won’t you just cut it out once in a while. The world is fighting based off of who is who and you are blinded by the show they are putting up. What is this? This is worldwide wresting? This is sport? Stop being a spectator.” Peter was the kind of man who was always on the look out for a fight. Peter knew who his enemies were. Peter was threatened and hurt and he never let himself forget about these two things.

“Who’s in mood for some comedy? Let’s switch the channel to something light.” He turned the channels till he found something worth his time. Govinda was dancing in front a multi-million dollar set. Surely, things don’t get better than this. Everybody loves to dance in Bollywood.

That was quite a weekend for Gabriel. Three of the clients he had been talking to had said no to him, until they agreed to a contract with Peter. That made him really sad, you know. After a couple of months passed, he came to the barbershop alone. It was almost closing time. The lights were shining bright and the music was yodeling as usual. Leaning against the outside wall Junaid, wearing a Burman hat, smoking a cigarette, saw Gabriel dropping by. He invited him in. The weather was cold, Gabriel kept his golf jacket on the side. His hair looked a real mess. He was as drunk as he could be, swinging-swaying he sat down in front of the mirror and started rubbing his palms together for warmth.

“Saala Peter”, he sniggered. “Thinks he is bigger than me. One day he will vanish. He’ll come calling after me then.”

“You’ll be in a grave by then if you keep your drinking going at this rate”, Jafar said. Suddenly he noticed an injury on the side of Gabriel’s skull. Blood was dripping down the right side of his face. All the way down to the tile on the floor. “Junaid, bring the first aid box here”, said Jafar.

“You must be wondering how it happened. I’ll tell you”, Gabriel struggled to put his words together. “I went to Peter to tell him he was stealing all my clients. He told me that all the connections were his own. He took my cut from me. How could I not fight for what’s mine? I smacked his head up.” Jafar and Junaid were shocked to hear this. Gabriel continued, “When I was leaving the office this afternoon, a group of men attacked me and brought me to the ground. They kicked me, swore at me foul insults. I knew only Peter could have sent them. Hey, Junaid! Get to my hair already! I’ve got to be home. My wife is waiting for me.” Jafar patched his head up for him and after the haircut they let him go.

Peter and Gabriel continued to remain drinking friends though. Month after month, for almost a couple of years now, Jafar and Junaid had seen these two show each other down over issues related to money but they continued to be drinking friends, saluting each other pretentiously. At the root of their falling out was money. The barbers were sure of it.

One Monday morning, Peter came to the salon without Gabriel. At first he didn’t say a word, didn’t behave strangely. He sat down for his cut and kept his eyes shut till the cut was nearly done. Deciding to disturb him, Jafar – the careful – asked him “Came all by yourself today?”

“So? You’ve thought of me as Gabriel’s dog? I can’t go anywhere without him?” Jafar explained to him that that was not what he meant. Peter admitted that he had overreacted. Things settled down. “He’s been wasting my time and my money” Peter told them. A Kavita Seth song was playing in the background softly. “Mind if I use the tap real quick?” he asked Jafar. Wiping his own hands in the towel Jafar signaled him to go ahead. Muttering to himself Peter placed his fingers under the hot water running from the tap and pulled his hand back in reaction to that burning feeling. He felt almost annoyed. Jafar helped him mix cold water in the water flowing from the tap. “The day he was hungry he came to me, and asked me to buy him fruits, I paid for them, but he always looking to take advantage of my kindness. He bought more than he could eat. And what do I see three days later? A bag is hanging in the office, flies are circling around it, and the fruits have gone bad." 

"I look in and he has hardly even touched them. It pisses me off the way he keeps fondling his pockets when he hasn’t anything in his pockets, even when I have said I am paying for his things. What do I do? I let him be. Now I’ve had enough. Sorry, I’m bothering you.”

“No. This is your home. You are our brother too. These things happen” Jafar said. “Don’t mind Gabriel, I know he is foolish. Don’t let him take control of business. He will only fail you again.” Handing Jafar the money Peter walked out the front door. “Come again”, Jafar said.

“What did you say that to him for, huh?” Junaid asked.

“What?” Jafar looked at him plainly. “It’s business.”

People chase life. They tell you what they want not what they should. But when you take them up on that that’s you. They are now your decisions and the consequences of those actions are yours to bear. Truth is people are made unequal. People are different. Life’s a balancing act. To feel like equals we enter into others lives. We spend a lifetime wanting to feel their equal. When we fail, we curse our luck, feel burdened by an existential angst. The trick might be to reason only as much with yourself as you wish to find in a beautiful life. We wish to find ourselves draped with the beauty we see in the world. Through the eyes of the crowd, we see someone, but we can’t see ourselves.

We look in the mirror, but it is not us we see. Who do we see? We see someone we have never seen before. The world stares at us and never once blinks. If it blinks once perhaps the world is doomed to blindness.

“I cannot preach to people about life. The way life is lived is so damn private” Jafar admitted. “I look around, I feel grateful for the life I have. Our parents left us this life. How can I not feel grateful for them? I feel indebted. I know things are tough but when time is right, we will live a peaceful life. There is no guarantee it will be beautiful, but it will be full of peace.”

“Don’t keep interfering in the lives of others, don't keep slipping poison into someone's medicine they take everyday. You never know when you might disturb someone so much they set out to hurt you”, Junaid said out of concern for his brother. Times were hard.

Then one day what Junaid feared took shape. Peter had come to get a haircut and a shave. Some Malayali film dubbed in Hindi was playing on UTV. With the coming of an Amitabh Bacchhan campaign advertisement Gabriel entered the barbershop with a knife in his hand and tried to pierce it through the chest of Peter. Jafar caught his hand at the right moment and the knife fell to the side. Gabriel had to be pinned to the ground. He was resentful.

“You coward!” Peter screamed. “You tried killing me. Sin has gotten the better of you. I thought you were my brother.” “I will strike you down. You are my enemy.”

“He is not your enemy!” Junaid yelled innocently. He stood shivering.

Once Gabriel’s rage was washed ashore Jafar sat him down next to Peter and asked him like he would a child, “So what if Peter was your enemy, hasn’t he a right to live? Don’t we all have an equal right to live? Would you like that right withdrawn from your own life? Why were you giving it up by forcefully taking it from this man? Forget that you have been wronged.”