Sunday mornings would start early the day there was an appointment with the village barber Janappa. Janappa a middle aged man a full time worker at the local mill carried the legacy giving hair trims to every one from the vegetable vendor to the village head. He would be there at the doorstep sharp at 7 ringing the bell and calling out "sahebra". Janappa would be greeted with a hot cup of tea before he got down to business. He sipped the tea and savored every sip "surring" it before he swallowed.He had a compact box for his equipment much like a surgeon's case. It had some sharp scissors, shaving blades, a small green cup with soap which had a neat depression right in the middle, one that had formed due to regular use. Janappa was skilled in his art and took pride in it. He had a rhythm in his style, much like that of a percussionist following a certain pattern of beats. He would get into his form like a performer and end his beat cycles in anticipation of a round of applause.He snapped and snapped moved carefully along soft skin lines near the ears
made round edges at the back cleaning all the hair on the neck. Jannappa didn't end at trimming hair, his specialty was the refreshing head massage after the hair cut. He beat the top and the sides, pulled ears at regular intervals, like a drummer hitting the drums the snare and tinkering the cymbal occasionally.
While he did this there was an air of importance that clouded him, he gloated on how all powerful, weak, big or small had to bow their heads for him. How his profession was a great equalizer.This was such an event that it made it for waking up early on a Sunday morning.
