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Silver locks..!

The president of the international barbers association had a worried look on his face as he got up to face the other members. In his many years as the president he had never before had to deal with a problem of such magnitude involving such loss of money. He looked at the other members and spotted the lone Indian representative, who was bristling with rage and waiting to get onto to the podium and onto the mike. The president beckoned him on stage and sat down.

"Friends," shouted the Indian barber as he glared at the others in the hall. "Which country has more haircuts than any other country in the world?" Nobody said anything. They knew the answer but did not want to state the obvious. "In a country where we have a billion people and thus as proportionate a number of haircuts. In a country where cutting one's hair is even part of certain religious beliefs. A country which did not subscribe to the hippy culture of growing hair or the Beatle mania, we now have a gigantic swing away from the barbers shears. People have started avoiding one haircut and slowly the second and my colleagues and comrades in the business know that slowly but surely we will have to shut down".

There was a hush in the room. Many of the other members remembered with horror, days when they had gone through similar or almost identical situations, and their hearts went out to their comrades in India. They recollected days after the Woodhouse show and days when they had looked out of their empty saloons and watched pony tailed old customers walking down the streets avoiding to look at their 'scissors and shear' friends of yore.

An English barber his eyes filled with tears got up from his seat walked over to the podium and held the weeping Indian in a sympathetic embrace. "My friend," he said, "I know how you feel. Its not just the losing of revenue that hurts but the treachery of the whole thing.

These same people who now betray you, once used your shops not just to shear their locks, but to unwind and talk and get things off their chests.

You were a psychologist and psychiatrist, friend and counsellor to all of them and now at the drop of a hat they have abandoned and deserted you..!" The Indian barber and now others in the hall started crying uncontrollably and it took a super human effort by the president to stand in front of the mike and hold the meeting together. He stood a giant of a man who it was rumoured had severed more locks than any one else in the world.

"How?," he thundered. "Did this happen in your country?" The Indian barber wiped his eyes and pulled out a crumbled picture from his pocket. He held it up for all to see.

"Its Einstein," shouted an American barber. "I know that hairstyle well" The Indian barber shook his head tearfully. "Einstein is dead. This man isn't. He is the next President of India, and someone all the youth in the country want to emulate". A hush fell over the room.

"How long?," asked the president of the association is your President's term?" "Four years," whispered the Indian barber miserably.

"We will give you leave of absence for that period of time. You can go back to sheep shearing or butchering for the next four years, and we will take you back when Silver Locks finishes his term. Next..!"

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Copyright 2001 The Associated Newspapers of Ceylon Ltd.
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