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Saturday, September 29, 2007

Fresh Hair

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

Shorn 'nough

"Where are you from?"

"New Jersey, outside of New York. Where are you from?"

"Sri Lanka."

"When did you come to Bangalore?"

"Three months ago."

"Me, too!"

"How long will you be here?"

"A total of six months. How about you?"

"Oh, 10-15 years....I wanted to go to Europe, to Toni & Guy. That's my dream."

"Is Tony & Guy in London?"

"Yes."

I just had a look at its web site and I believe that I now have a haircut that's somewhere between its "avant garde" and "identity" collection. It's very essential (short), and it pleases me.

The man, who was cutting my hair was in his early-twenties, with orange-highlighted strands of messy-by-design, shortish, brown hair; dark-tan skin; a tight, white, short sleeved shirt with a mock-turtleneck; black, nylon pants; and long, square-tipped, black, leather, tie-up, men's shoes.

After my unfortunate, previous haircut, my mother said, "Sarah, when you see someone with a good haircut, ask where she went and go there."

I did.

Naming Names

"What does your name mean?" I asked.

He stopped cutting my hair and his face became pleased and wistful at once, "In my religion, it means...."

"May I ask your religion?"

"I am Muslim. What does your name mean?"

"Sarah is Hebrew; it means princess."

"Princess," he repeated.

"So, it's Ramadan for you now --"

"Yes, but don't talk to me about it. I have nowhere to go."

"I'm in the same situation. I'm Jewish. Do you know about the Jewish religion?"

"Yes."

"Well, there are no synagogues in Bangalore, and so....Actually, it's my Sabbath and I'm not supposed to get my hair cut during the Sabbath, but I guess you can see that I'm not that strict."

"I'm supposed to go to the mosque on Fridays."

"Right. There are mosques here, but it's not the same without your family, I'm sure."

He looked sad in response and I hoped I didn't spoil his mood, as I needed a good haircut. Fortunately, he compartmentalized the mood and went on, being artistic.

He rubbed a wax that looked like honey around my remaining hair and made me look wild. "I'm lucky you haven't yet gone to London. I love it!" He smiled and touched my shoulder.

Art brings people together, and commerce. I can't wait to see him again in six weeks.

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