Bangalore through foreign eyes

I took a bunch of students from the US on a trip to Bangalore (a course – not a sight-seeing enterprise!). They, of course, had many questions, which gave me an opportunity to see events through American eyes (and to provide my own spin to the reasons). Here is a sample:

1. The Deccan Herald (a local Bangalore paper) lists readers’ comments on some recent antics of Paris Hilton. Paris Hilton has a following in Bangalore! (Yes, she wants to act in local films.)

2. The elevator in the Barton Center goes up to the 13th floor where there are two restaurants. 13 is not unlucky in India? (No, we break a coconut on the elevator every day.)

3. They have not removed the plastic wrapping from their car seats! (Indians like to preserve the new car smell.)

4. Oh my God, there is a guy peeing in the corner of the side walk. (Indian men have weak bladders, I said.)

5. Did you see those two cows in the middle of the busy intersection? (Indian cows are sacred, and have the freedom to be where they want to be.)

6. There was a lizard in the bathroom! I ran out without going. (Let it fall on you. It brings luck.)

7. How does one cross the road? There is no pedestrian crossing and the traffic does not wait for you. (Walk slowly right through the traffic. They will flow around you. Indian traffic is in a symbiotic relation to its people.)

A hair dresser, salon, saloon, or clinic?

When I asked Hari what time his barber shop opens, he asked me, ‘Why? You don’t need a hair cut.’ The barbers also wonder why I walk into their shop. When I sit in my Arlington barber’s chair (a 3-seater place with only one barber), he finishes his job within a few minutes, then keeps hovering around trying to find places to work on. He must be feeling guilty for charging me his normal rate of $12 for so little time spent on my head.
I prefer barber shops with male barbers. They know how to use that scissor/comb the way it should be used. Women barbers tend to clutch clumps of hair and snip them, not gradually work the comb as it progresses up the back of your head giving you that cool feeling as the hair falls off and the air hits your scalp.
The Chennai barber ‘Diamond Hair Dressers’ (a 8-seater place with at least 4 barbers) at the junction of Kasturibhai Nagar 2nd cross road and Guindy road is my favorite haunt. The proprietor would be sitting in the corner of the shop reading ‘Dinamani,’ the tamil daily. As you walk in, he will greet you, and direct one of his assistants to attend to you. You have a choice of the machine or manual. Haircut is Rs. 50, beard trim Rs. 40. And oh, that head massage (Rs. 50) is divine; he will slap your scalp and stroke it in different ways that will make it move independent of the cranium. By the time he is done with your head, you will wonder if you still have one.
But I was in for a surprise when I walked into ‘Gateway, Hair Clinic’ (2-seater with one barber) on Double Road in Indira Nagar, Bangalore. The bareber was chatting away with his assistant in an empty saloon (salons are for women) on a Saturday morning which should be his peak time. He got into action, pulled out what looked like a used sheet and covered me. I wondered what was to come. He asked if he could use the machine (I only wanted a light trim) and I reluctantly agreed. But he attacked every hair with professional precision. He wanted to know if I wished to have my beard ‘shaped’ and not just trimmed. I hastily said ‘no’. I was already being greeted by Muslims on the street as one of their own and didn’t wish an appointment to the local mosque as their imam. Then he told me that I should keep the underside of my chin more closely trimmed for it will make the upper part look more shapely for my face structure. Hmm. Wise words. All for a mere Rs. 50 (I generously added Rs. 20 as a tip).
Of course, nobody around me even knew I had a haircut.