People, beautiful People; Life, Beautiful Life
Hair grows @ 12 mm a month. I don’t know where he got his facts, but Thomas (we call him ‘Sayippu Thoma’ in the plant) came up with that one day. That means that about 5 meters of hair had been cut off my head my Appu during the years from 1963 to 1999. This comes to my mind whenever I go for a hair cut.
Appu had been my barber since my child hood days till his death in 1999. He was the talk of the village when he set up his modern barbershop in our sleepy place. Till then we had seen only small one room barber shops with rickety chairs and old soiled towels and sheets. The new shop (‘Deluxe Hair Cutting Saloon’) with ceiling fans and a big German radio with its long net like aerial etc. was a big draw. The ‘L’ shaped table attached to the wall with multiple drawers containing all the sartorial assortments was the object of awe-filled appreciation, especially for the children. Later in 1978 or so, when the construction was in full swing for the Kerala Newsprint Project, he shifted his establishment to Velloor and he shocked the local barbers with his air-conditioned saloon.
It was a shock for me when I made my usual appointment one day and found that Appu had been hospitalized for surgery for some malignant growth in his stomach leaving the establishment to one of his relatives. He did not live long. I felt very miserable, even thought of not going for hair cut any more. There was so much more to our relationship than mere hair cutting. Once a month we reviewed the world and our lives and the lives of almost all people in HNL, besides those in our village. We became mirrors, therapists, confessors, companions in an odd sort of way. We discussed and argued and joked, but always with a certain thoughtful deference. After all, I was his customer. And he was standing there with scissors in his hands.
I found out that on Tuesdays he gave hair cut to some of his wealthy customers at Ernakulam. I also found out he gave some of his off-days to giving free haircuts at certain orphanages. He found out a few good things about me, too, I suppose. I had never gone to his house or had a cup of tea together. Still our relationship was better than next-door neighbours. There was a real sense of loss in his death.
Without realizing it we filled important places in each other’s lives. It is that way with the guy at the provision store in our place, the mechanic at the local garage, the postman, the teachers, neighbours, co-workers. Good people who are always there, who can be relied upon in small important ways. People, who teach us, bless us, encourage us, support us, uplift us in our day-to-day life. We never tell them.
And, of course, we fill that role ourselves. There are those who depend on us, watch us, learn from us, take from us. And we never know. You may never have proof of your importance, but you are more important than you think.
There is an old Sufi story of a good man who was granted one wish by God. The man said he would like to go about doing good without knowing about it. God granted his wish. And then God decided that it was such a good idea, he would grant that wish to all human beings. And so it has been to this day.
You may never have proof of your importance, but you are more important than you think.....
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