A day in Delhi

First things first, I don't know and I'm not sure, and I can't confirm, but maybe I might have pissed or half-pissed or quarter-pissed or eighth-pissed or sixteenth-pissed someone off today so as I said earlier on, first things first, from deep inside, from the bottom of the wall of my heart (left ventricle? Nearly two years of not touching biology has made me like this) I apologise for pissing anyone off today. First thing done.

So what happened was, I came down to school a little earlier than usual. There was only one line of students queueing up for the temperature check at the waiting bay and I joined in. It was long. It wouldn't be that long if you came at around 7.05 a.m.. A tutor then called for a second line to be made and I joined that one. Greeted him good morning as well as the other tutors in charge of SMSA HSE (as if there is a term like that). Why I tell you all this? 'Cause I think this "Morning, Sir!, Morning, Sir!" thing triggered my good mood that lasted a lifetime. Just kidding. It lasted the whole day.

Went through a good day 'cause I talked and smiled and laughed and asked whereabouts and serious stuff and joke stuff and all that stuff with a lot of people. Exceptionally a lot of people. I feel happy. Why? Because typing the above is a good way to summarise the fact that you've been talking to Pkah, Norlela, Abd. Aziz, Zimo, JJ, Yee Fang, Hanafi, Jason, Abd. Khaliq, many more, and My Physics Tutor (note the capital letters). Only I and only I can understand what I am talking about. Great. Now I know how to make life easy. And short. And simple. On the outside only, by the way. 'Cause inside I've got a picture. A picture paints a thousand words... Okay get me? I have a thousand words (or more) inside me.

I had a haircut. Laugh at me, I don't know about hair and I love to go to the Indian barber. With the energy and good mood and all I greeted the barber, who was new, and we broke the ice. Great. Just as he started cutting, I asked his name and I told my name and we set off right away, after a few sentences...

Him: "Sudah kawin ka kawan?"

Me: "Belum eh... Saya umur 17 bah. Kamu?"

Him: "Belum juga... 22"

Him: "Gaalfren?" i.e. "Girlfriend?"

Right on, now we can talk some real stuff here!

Me: "Tidak ada lah..."

We talked and talked and I got to know that he's still a freshie... only around 9 months into the job I think. Asked him how long he'd intend to work in Brunei, since there's a plethora of Indians around who've been here for more than 20 years. He said he'd go for 15. I said he'd be 37 by the time that time came. He agreed...

I used some Urdu to get the ice really melted. No, I don't speak Urdu. Just some words and broken sentences...

I learnt a great deal from him. As usual, barbers over in Delhi don't earn as much as they do in Brunei. Also, competition for jobs is real damn hard over there. So he came here. Good to see you here Bhai-sab!

I asked him. How the hell do you barbers learn to cut hair? He told me that barbers-to-be in Delhi go for a 4-month course in the profession of barbery (I made that word up), maybe in a hairstyling academy or something, I don't know. They cut the hair of people that want their hair to be cut by barber-trainees. And if the hair gets messed up, it's okay. It's okay. They don't mind. They don't mind. That's what I was told by him. The great thing about him was, he graduated from the hairstyling academy or whatever that did Shah Rukh Khan's and Salman Khan's hairs. I asked him if he had ever met Salman Khan. He enthusiastically said yes! Wow, this is great, I thought.

Him: "Salman Khan, muscle banyak!"

Me: "Ia wah?" Melayan lah.

Him: "Ya... Dia banyak gaalfren, tau..." And he kept on saying the names of most probably hot Indian women celebrities and I went nod, nod, nod, nod, nod...

Me: "Dia sudah kawin belum, itu Salman Khan?" Honestly I don't know about him.

Him: "Belum, belum, dia banyak gaalfren..."

Me: "Oh... Dia banyak gaalfren boleh main-main lah, kalau sudah kawin tida boleh main-main lagi bah"

Him: "Itu lah..."

We somehow got back to him working in Brunei for fifteen years and we talked about him getting married and how would his marriage be, his wife, his kids, if he'd be here in Brunei and the rest over in Delhi. He didn't say much but...

"Saya ada gaalfren bah. Dua orang..."

Wow! I laughed. So I said,

"Itu gaalfren tida marah kah, kamu datang sini Brunei?"

I don't think I got an answer to that...

He gave a nice moustache shave, some facial whatever that felt great on my face and a nice massage.

Paid $4 and bade him Salaam.

This reminds me of my childhood days when I would go out with Ayyub and my dad to the same barber shop (different barber) to get our hairs done and my dad would be shooting off some lively conversation with the barber(s).

Maybe the time has come wherein I would be the one conversing with them.