Haircut

 So this evening I decided I needed a haircut. This was much to the annoyance of my wife, who always feels that I do not need one. It often leads to an argument. My hair can be creeping down my back but it is always the same refrain, “it’s already so short”

Being lord and master of myself – or so I think, off I went.

Now let me put things in the right perspective- For me haircuts are a bore, a drag  and a waste of time but a necessity so I endure the 25 minutes or so that it takes.

In my hometown,  as a young boy,  I had my haircut a shop named “UP TO DATE”. He was an old person and definitely OUT OF DATE but  someone once said names are deceiving – don’t ask me who and when .

In Pune, I   resided in The Bishops School campus and the same barber who cut the boys’ hair gave me a haircut as well. He was called “HANDSOME”. I was told that many years ago, some boarders gave him the nickname and it stuck. HANDSOME cut my hair for 20 years and I never complained. He did a good job – he came home and all was well. 

When I moved to Dubai in 2001, I needed a haircut so I went downstairs from where I resided and found a Pakistani barbershop. 19 years later and I now drive 5 km to the same barbershop although there is one just a hundred meters from where I stay. I am sure you have realized by now that I am not fussy where haircuts are concerned.  Actually I don’t have much hair on my head and its pretty fine .

The shop is clean, the barbers are polite and that is all that matters.  I fail to understand what all the fuss is about where haircuts and barbers are concerned.

So back to this evening. Being in Pune and with no HANDSOME around, I walked into the first shop I saw, which was about fifty meters from my house.

Yes, the saloon was clean and busy and that told me he was good! In I went.

Cloth around my neck and neatly tucked in and he stumped me with his first question, “which style Sir “

Now no one has ever asked me this question before. 

It is usually me enter shop, I am wished, I sit down, cloth goes around my neck and in a short while I am out. It’s a no brainer . 

“Which style Sir “was a new one and I said, “TRIM” rather nonchalantly and without looking at him.

He smiled as if to say, “OK you are not fussy” 

Fifteen minutes later I was done. He immediately produced one of those square mirrors to show me the back of my head. I could not care less.  He then asked me if I wanted a head massage to which I agreed. I still do not know why I said yes.

A list of about eight different oils, was rattled off by him. He was a fast talker. The only word I could decipher was COCONUT, so coconut it was.

The oil was poured generously and he massaged, kneaded, manipulated,   rubbed, pounded, banged, pulled, and pressed my scalp in all manners possible. Just when I was about to say THANK YOU, he produced a small machine from a draw. Strapping it on to his hand, he then began rubbing it all over my head – my forehead, my neck, my scalp, my ears and the top of my eyebrows. It jarred, hummed and frightened me. 

Not sure why, but he kept on and on as if he was intent on scooping out my brains and presenting them to me on a silver platter as a giveaway gift.

Then, without warning, and so much as a” MAY I”, he stopped the assault. I was alive. 

He smiled. I attempted a weak smile in reply.

He handed me a comb and with trembling hands, I combed my hair half expecting my brains to fall out at any minute  

I paid and I tipped him, thankful that all was well.  Before leaving, I gave one last look at myself in the mirror. My face looked chalky white and my pupils were dilated.

I reached home and my wife said “Oh my God, he has cut your hair is so short.

Give me a break – Please.

I looked in the mirror again – Yes I looked good !

The doll

 Let me come to the point straight away. We had a doll in the house and eerie things began happening after we planned to get rid of it, and that’s what this is about.

So, let’s get to the beginning. Jerry was a vinyl, ‘boy doll’, and quite good looking! He was about a foot long, the size of a small baby, dressed in blue, and all cute and cuddly, with deep blue eyes, and a lovely expression on his face. The doll was a gift for my elder daughter on her third birthday, and she loved it. In fact, it was her first gift that year, and hence extra special. She spent hours playing and talking to it, as all young girls do. As young parents, we attended doll tea parties and doll birthdays, and it was fun and cute. The children’s’ friends came over with their dolls too and the kids spent many an enjoyable holiday in their make-believe world. 

Then we had our second baby girl, a few years later, and the doll was passed on. In fact, both played with it for years. As and when necessary, it was washed in soap and water, dried in the sun, and dressed in a fresh set of baby clothes.

After being with us for about 8 years or so, Jerry was worn out, and was soon relegated to being ‘an old toy’, as both girls took to ‘Barbies’ in a big way. Jerry was never played with, began looking dusty, neglected, and dirty. However, whenever we went to throw it out, or give it away, we never did, due to sentimental reasons. The girls refused to part with it. 

This is where this story takes an unmistakeably sinister turn. 

One morning we found “Jerry boy” as he was affectionately called, with his neck off! Now mark you - we had no dog or cat in the house and the doll had been relegated to the corner of a  top shelf in a large wooden cupboard. Rather than keep it like that, my wife picked up a needle and thread, stitched the neck firmly back on and put the doll back in the cupboard. We forgot about the incident for a few months.   Lo and behold, when we decided to dispose of the cupboard and get a replacement, everything was taken out of the cupboard and put on the bed. Amidst all the clothes, we spotted Jerry- with his neck about to fall off once again. Something just did not seem right. This transpired on two more occasions – the last time it did, the clothes were all torn, and the face scratched. It could have been my imagination, but I felt that the lips seemed darker than normal, and the eyebrows slightly raised and pulled together. That was the icing on the cake. I immediately had the doll put in a large plastic bag and without telling the two girls, I threw it in the bin outside. Luckily, the garbage van was there at the very moment, and we never saw or heard of ‘Jerry boy’ again. 

We then shifted to another house, and all was well for a few months. Then, surprise of surprises, we came home from school one afternoon & saw a doll in the house. It was a blond haired, light eyed, porcelain doll, had on a pink lace dress, and looked new.  We had a house maid, and when we asked her where it had come from, she was as confused as us. My elder daughter said that she had taken it out from a box in the   toy cupboard. However far- out the explanation, we had no reason to disbelieve her, and presumed that one of their friends had probably left it at our place after the last sleep over and would collect it on her next visit.

 It looked adorable. 

As it was never claimed, we were left with no other alternative but to keep it, it assuming that it could   have been a birthday gift, that we had somehow overlooked. The girls played with it now and then and all was honky dory. It sat with the large collection of barbies on a low shelf and somehow fitted in, despite being the odd one out.   

Then we went for the summer vacation and by the time we returned, the doll seemed to have taken on a life of its own. Now first and foremost it was one of those old-fashioned talking dolls. The doll's talking mechanism was activated by a small button on its back. Pressing the button turned a grooved disc inside the doll's body, and a metal needle produced sound from the disc by traveling through the grooves. What was odd was the fact that although the doll spoke English, it was with a strange accent. There were two prerecorded sentences. the first was ‘Hello, my name is Mia’. The second was, “I want to play with you.” Those were followed by the doll laughing! If you ask me, the laughter was hideous and quite repulsive, but the girls laughed along and seemed to enjoy it so who was I to complain! 

The first time this happened we woke with a start. It was well past midnight when the doll, which was lying at the corner of the bed, occupied by the kids, started talking and laughing! It spoke the same two sentences repeatedly - and as for the laugh itself- it scared me. 

I have always imagined myself as some sort of a detective, so I worked it out, much to the chagrin of my wife, that one of the kids had woken from her sleep, played with the doll, activated the talk button, and then dozed off. Nevertheless, we did not put too much thought into the incident and dozed off again. We woke with a start at about five am with the doll on the ground and yes, it was talking again and oh that sinister laughter! 

I managed to convince my wife using the same logic once again, that it was just a bizarre coincidence, that had happened twice in one night.

I am not going to draw this out, but this doll often began talking at abnormal times - at night, in the afternoon, when it was in the cupboard and even when we placed it in the showcase! At times we only heard the awful laughter. I would then jump and switch it off.

Our younger daughter found this quite amusing while the elder one felt that our fears were unfounded, although unable to come up with any fathomable or plausible explanation herself.   

As there was no sentimental attachment to this doll, and we were leaving for Dubai in a week, we left it in the house along with a few other toys, rather than throw it away.

The next tenant probably found it. Not sure if it is still talking and laughing or whether that show was only for our benefit. 

Would love to know.