I rub my eyes groggily as my obnoxious self-stares back at me from the mirror. “C’mon. We have to leave in 10 minutes, or it will get too crowded. Get ready quick!” shouts my mother from across the house .I still haven’t quite woken up from my sleep yet. Somehow the thought strikes, its 10: 30 am & I have over slept.

“Oh ma, do I really have to go?” I groan as I remember I have to get ready to go to the salon to get a haircut.

 “Yes, obviously. Your hair is getting wilder day by day. Look at yourself. It makes you look too shabby!”

“Arre, that’s just because I woke up now and I haven’t applied hair oil in a long time”

“I don’t want any excuses! Go take a bath before we get late for the salon”

As soon I step out of the building with my mother to walk towards the salon close by, I realize it’s drizzling softly. I ignore pulling up my windcheater (or rain cheater is it?) and start walking at a fast pace (a habit I inculcated because of my father).

 I hear my mom saying loudly “Wear your windcheater properly .You don’t want to catch a fever just before college starts”

 I just grunt a loud “Uff” as I continue walking faster trying to ignore her. I guess I was still upset over the ‘getting a haircut’ thing. We continued walking in silence.

As I was walking, I began to think, when I was young I used to go with my dad to get a haircut, in a men’s parlor. I used to be the only girl around getting her hair cut. I still remember the barber , chewing  manikchand supari all day long , who used to manage a soft “sorry beta” in his loud voice when his scissor would get stuck in my  small golden loop earrings and poke me.

“Hello nisha!” my mom’s voice suddenly breaks my thoughts. I realize we have reached the salon. I manage a weak smile at everyone.

“ I guess we were not early enough!” I say in a triumphant (?) voice as we take a seat. The place was jam-packed. One aunty getting a facial done, her face covered in weird brown stuff, as she reads a book. I can’t really make out the book’s name.

Another one is getting a haircut. Another aunty was busy flipping through some huge books, which I later realized where for selections of hair colors.

And another aunty at the far corner was looking at us up and down. As if she was sizing us. I noticed she was wearing track pants, sandals (?), a huge t-shirt (probably her husband’s), with a considerably large nose ring. I look away. Not exactly my style.

I was still fuming, when my mom said “ Nisha, just trim her hair a little wont you? Maybe 2-3 inches shorter. Give her a steps if you can.” Nisha aunty nods, as she’s snipping off one of the other aunty’s hair efficiently.

 The track pants lady continues with her story after the interruption, “yeah .So , my son came back from school. I had told my neighbor that just look after him for over an hour or so as I’ll not be home that day., and can u imagine , that lady ,who does she thinks she is , she didn’t give my son even a glass of water to drink? I mean, what happened to good old manners. You are a  41-year old lady for crying out loud”

All the aunties continue nodding their head religiously. They were obviously bored.

the aunty with the book interrupts the silence suddenly , “Nisha I cant tell you how interesting this book is getting. I mean, its about how this lady’s life changes over night. This normal lady was flying to Washington D.C, and she happened to sit beside the presidents daughter, only she didn’t know it. So suddenly the plane starts declining and they all realize the plane is going to crash. So this lady , out of impulse takes the child in her arms so she’s safe. So after the police start the rescue work, the realize someone was clutching the presidents daughter, but her face was disfigured .So they thought she was the presidents wife , while the actual wife had died. So this other lady gets a plastic surgery and one day she wakes up she realizes she is the wife of the president, and she has her face and everything. Interesting na? M reading what will happen next.” 

OKAY .. I thought. I had already started thinking various flaws to the plot. But thought it might be not appropriate to mention them .

The lady getting her hair done, spoke up , talking to the lady with the book

“anita,listening to all this . I mean her life changes drastically and all.Just think , since you were in college how much our lives have changed!! No, No.. don’t cut so much at the sides nisha!”She said waving her hands vigorously.

the track pants lady started again “you know you are so right mansi. I mean I was known in college for getting into trouble.I used to Bunk. my assignements were never complete. I barely payed attention during lectures! And all the guys I hung out with were known for breaking windows!Look it me now,I  am a wife and mother of two sons!”

All the 5 ladies broke into laughter like a pack of witches from the wild west.

Sounded like the joke of the day! I thought sarcastically  as I continued smsing my friend, nalini.

“U said it priya! I mean, I was so introvert when I was in college. It used to be college and ghar.college and ghar. No outside activities except for dance competitions and all.Who could have thought I would be running a beauty parlour!” Said Nisha aunty enthusiastically. “chalo , mansi . your done. Just sit for some time , I’ll do your eyebrows in just a minute. Cmon beta , sit” she continued.

I, pretty used to the routine , sit  down on the chair with a large THUD . I shut my eyes tight so that watery spray wouldn’t get into my eyes.The cooling effect spread through my scalp pretty soon to realize it was safe to open my eyes.

“Anita , tell me .Weren’t the guys during college horrible?” Says priya ‘the track pants’ aunty.

“Well, I would know all that well. My friends where more ahead of me when it came to dating.I swear , the lies I had to make up for their mothers! Haha!” 

“We’ve all the been there. For some friend or the other!” adds my mom. I look up in surprise. My mom actually covered up for her friends while the went out for dates during college days? NO WAY!

“Can u imagine, I actually told my friends mom that her daughter was kept back in college for some extra help required by the history professor as she was the head of class, while she was probably kissing her boyfriend at the back of some tree in our campus.Come to think of it, she was horrible is history , and her mom bought my story!”

I smile from the corner of my lips, while the other aunty’s  laugh uncontrollably.

 I cant see anything but black. My hair is all of my eyes as I hear a “snip, snip” at the back of my head.

“That’s nothing!” said priya aunty, “I once had to tell my friends mom that her daughter  been chosen for some  competition  at the last minute so she wouldn’t be home till late night, while she had gone out for a movie with her boyfriend!”

Oh brother!

“But still. I think of those days.Guys were such pigs weren’t they? Ready to pounce on anyone they like.Some of them still are. I doubt they are worthy of being lied for” continued priya ‘track-pants’ aunty.

“Chalo beta, your done .hair looks fine na?” nisha aunty asks as she switches off the blow dryer.

I nod silently.

Embarrassment, because of the new haircut, for the first 6 days, then I think I’ll be able to manage.

Mom is visibly more happy as my hair looks less “wilder” … wait till she see’s me next morning again! I smirk to myself.

 As I get up from the chair, I brush of some hair of my t-shirt. Anita aunty(the one with the book) asks me, “beta , you’ll be going to college now na?”

“yes aunty”

“do u have a boyfriend?”

“no aunty” (would I even tell you if I had one?)

“good.i like you”

I look visibly confused.

“ I meant. U dress like this everyday?”

I look down at my blue jeans and my red “TO BE IN SWITZERLAND” t-shirt.

“yes aunty.always”

“good. don’t dress up too much for the boys.they are not worth it”

“obviously not” adds mansi aunty (the one waiting to get her eyebrows done) “they are just a complete waste of time.Being yourself and being alone is the best thing in the world.believe me”

“think. Getting up in the morning.dressing up or dressing down because you feel like it , not because your boyfriend  wants you too.No waiting for your Bf alone in the bus stop for hours. No buying gifts before valentine’s day.No hiding all the time.No getting scolded on when u get caught. Just being yourself for yourself. NO  added tension. God, I wish someone might have told me that when I was young” says priya aunty.

“YES aunty.Don’t worry.i’ll not put myself through all that headache!” I assure all three as my mom pays nisha aunty for the haircut.

There I was, entering the salon half and hour back  with the impression that these aunty’s obviously had no work of their own , spending a Saturday morning in a salon, probably to visit a kitty party that afternoon to gather some new gossip and advise each other about some new beauty products  and would probably have no such effect on me whatsoever.

But now, here I was , walking out of the salon with probably such an advice, from three  ‘jobless’ aunties, which I would live by and which just might be stuck in my mind forever. Being happy, being myself and being bf-less…hmmn… their advice definitely strengthened my thought on being myself and bf-less for a LONG time.

I think I  would  rather just prefer hanging out with my friends , paying for my own share of 15 cups of coffee in CCD , actually consuming the whole bag of popcorn during a movie and not sharing it with someone, not waiting at the bus-stop for hours,buying my favourite chocolates for valentines day and having the whole thing myself than pretending I liked the one my bf gave me(if any at all).It’ll be fun to be selfish and not think of someone else, except yourself, constantly. Ya, I think I’ll do just fine for the next 4 to 5 years.

As I walk out  zipping up my wind cheater, I notice a young girl ,about 17,talking rapidly into the PCO phone “Come early at the bus stop today. Not late like last time. I have to tell you and give you something. Don’t be late please. ok? see you soon jaan. bye” she walks away adjusting the glittering hair clips in her hair, which were matching with her salwaar kameez.

I laugh to myself the rest of the path back home.