Never a dull moment

 Oh, the barber of our village ! With balding scalp, haircut these days has become perfunctory. It was a "strict" exercise with the barber at our village when I was in primary school. I had to sit like a statue and turn or tilt and then again "statue" as per barber's instruction. To make matters easy, he would tilt my head by holding my crown like changing gear in the car. He would land a knock with his knuckle if I moved. It was tough to stay still when the barber worked with manual machine shear on the sides and back. Two items in the barber shop always interested me. The barber's knife being sharpened now and then by repeated vigorous swiping of it's cutting edge on a long piece of leather hanging from wall was interesting. The bottom end of the leather piece was pulled tight while the knife's edge was swiped. I can still hear the swishing sound of knife edge being swiped on the piece of rubber. The most interesting item - I would have loved to ca

 A teacher retires - primary school days First image of teacher I have is of Achatu Janaki teacher and thinking of her makes me smile.Our primary school was at farthest point of our village. She called on my grandparents and got me enrolled in her school. She used to fetch some of us on her way to school. We were a flock of fifteen by the time we reached the school. She retired when we moved from II to III standard. A farewell  function was organised. We were told to bring gifts for her. The farewell function was in the open and we were all seated on the ground. Couple of tables were laid out and Janaki teacher was seated with headmaster Anthony master beside the tables. One by one,  we got up, said namasthe to Janaki teacher and handed over our gifts which other teachers piled up neatly on the tables. Nothing can be carried to the nether world. If such a possibility exists, Janaki teacher would still be using the bathing soap cakes we gifted ! She would have run out of talcum powder p

 Change ! Change ! Change ! Where do you go for change ? Now I have become a regular bus and metro traveler. Metro card is a useful a “change” avoider but no such luck in buses. Moe often than not , I am in a newly introduced  bus running through our colony but it has no number- it says STL in the place of three digit route number. There is a provision for buying online bus ticket with DTC app with bus number. But the effort to pay Rs 15/Rs 20 through the app  is a herculean effort with the excellent service of Vodafone. I would value the labour involved at Rs 100 with the prospect of being branded a ticketless traveler if a checking squad boards the bus. Conductors accept Rs 100 notes on occasions but be prepared for more cellophane tapes than currency notes with your Rs15/ Rs 20 tickets. A mild protest would make the conductor show you a partitioned space in his cash bag which will put to shame a museum of cellophane tapes hands down. If you extend Rs 50, the conductor could become c

Boarded the metro at Chatharpur. A young girl in a cap and a middle aged man were occupying the senior citizen's two seater. On seeing me, the girl looked at the man ( hmm... dad and daughter) and he got up. "You are getting down AIIMS ?" "Yes" I patted him on his shoulder twice. As I got up to deboard the metro, I whispered into his ears," Everything is going to alright. You are going to the best doctors" He said something which I could not catch. He kept looking at me as the doors of the metro doors. I waved at him. Brought back memories of several journeys on the same the route years ago. Like this dad and daughter combo, we were also silent looking nowhere in particular. It will take a while for me to smile.