Yesterday, I was at the salon. The usual monthly haircut. The same salon I have been going to for years. The same set of people, the same familiarity, and the usual things to be done. They know it all by now.
As the work progressed, an elderly gentleman stepped in. My guess was that he was in his late sixties. I could see him in the mirror.
Something gentle and humble about him. Sometimes, you look at someone and feel a sense of reverence without knowing anything about them. He was that sort.
He was casually dressed in a white-and-grey striped T-shirt and black cotton trousers, with a cotton sling bag. His right hand was inside the bag. I wondered whether he was counting beads, quietly repeating a mantra.
He gently asked, โ๐๐ข๐ข๐ญ ๐ฌ๐ข๐ต๐ธ๐ข๐ฏ๐ข ๐ฉ๐ข๐ช ๐ฃ๐ฉ๐ข๐ช, ๐ฌ๐ช๐ต๐ฏ๐ข ๐ด๐ฆ๐ธ๐ข ๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ฆ๐จ๐ข?โ (I need a haircut. How much will it cost?)
The usual charge for a haircut at the salon is โน180. One of the hairdressers looked up at him respectfully and said, โโน120, sir.โ
The gentleman softly uttered, โShree Radhe, Shree Radhe,โ and walked towards the door. It seemed to me that even โน120 was more than he could afford to spend.
A second later, he stepped back in and asked very gently, โMere toh thode se hi baal hain bhai, thoda kam nahi ho sakta hai kya?โ (I don’t have much hair. Can the fee be a bit less?)
But before anyone could answer, he stepped out again. I couldn’t know how he felt, but it seemed like asking had made him uncomfortable.
It was a simple incident. Yet, as I sat there thinking about it, my heart filled with gratitude.
My monthly haircut and a few grooming rituals are so much a part of my routine that I hardly think about what I will pay. I walk in, settle into the chair, get things done, and leave.
Something so ordinary for me had made another person pause at the door and ask if it could cost a little less.
I began thinking about how many such things I have in my life. Small comforts, familiar routines, things I can afford without a second thought. I am so used to having them that I often forget they are privileges. What feels usual to me may feel like abundance, or even luxury, to someone else.
I came back with an immense ๐๐ฒ๐ป๐๐ฒ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ด๐ฟ๐ฎ๐๐ถ๐๐๐ฑ๐ฒ for the simple things I am blessed with. Nothing about my own circumstances had changed in that hour. I had just become a little more aware of what was already there.
PS: Image generated by ChatGPT. Tried a new format.
