The Barber Who Was Loved By All

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The moment he came, usually on sundays, the children below 10 would run inside the cornermost spot of their house. He, with the box colored black, would stride to each and every house aiming to grab atleast a child or a man to earn the daily livelihood.  This box had numerous small to medium sized bottles filled with oil, various kinds of scissors meant for cutting hair as well as mustaches and beard, razors and unbranded shaving cream. He would shout with his heavy voice at the peak, 'o dada, interested in haircut?' 

He was a huge figure, complexioned dark and a belly protruding out. The reason why most of the children were scared of him was his mustache. It exented from above the upper lips up to the ears on both sides of his cheeks. Dark black and thick hairy tash curled at the both ends. It shone under the sun as was religiously shampooed and oiled every day.

The person spoke, 'oh! Balwant, lets do this next sunday'. The boy peeping from behind the curtain sighed as was relieved for a week from Balwant's torture. He was not much of a torture as a human but children were mostly scared of his looks and voice assuming him to be some terrific being. The grown ups loved him though.

The people locally used to call him 'dal-khichudi' in Bengali for reasons unknown to anyone. It was like the pet name given to him since he arrived this place many many years ago as a teenager. He was Balwant Thakur; eloped from some village situated at Bihar, in search of job to feed his stomach as well as that of his family which included a wife too. 

After earning for few months as an untrained barber, he had gone to village and impregnated his wife. A son was born after few months, whom he brought with him when he attained teenage to carry forward his profession.  

Balwant had slowly reduced his involvement with the profession and his son took over it to the next level by opening a saloon locally at the area. He wouldn't go to anybody's house. Balwant was hardly seen and was told by son about his faltering health. Suddenly he was seen on his son's saloon one evening, sitting; coughing and sipping a cup of tea. He looked frail, not the sturdy man who existed earlier. Few people talked with him,  he said was sick since many months suffering from cancer. 

And one sunday morning, the locality heard him taken to the graveyard. And the huge Balwant, aka, 'dal-khichudi' was gone. 


Comments

  1. Poonam SharmaJanuary 4, 2024 at 10:19 AM

    Incredible description!!! Really loved this short and interesting story...

    ReplyDelete

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