As an eight year old I was stubborn as a mule. For some reason I hated all barbers (for a reason as stupid as that the word was so close to barbarians). I would never go for a haircut and refused stubbornly even when the Amazon over my head was lush!

Mom had gone over to her sister’s place a year ago when my cousin was getting married. Since aunt was the mother of the bride to be, she needed some moral support. From the day mom had arrived, aunt had nothing on her head except her hair, I meant she thought about it all time (don’t get me otherwise!). She wanted to shorten it, but somehow the subject got diverted and they kept forgetting about it in the hustle and bustle.

I had gone for weeks without a haircut. I was still going strong against the barber. Dad was giving the silent “this-is-not-right” stare (which all dads who have rebellious sons do) and mom was ballistic. She had taken a military stance with motherly concessions.  I guess this was what must have gone in her mind:

1. Get the hair cut done at any cost.

2. Get it done without a barber.

And it was decided.

On THE morning of THE day, when the first of a host of ceremonies constituting my cousin’s marriage was to start, both these sisters (mom and aunt) realised my aunt needed the  haircut. There was no time for aunt to go to the barber as the program was to begin in a few hours and final preparations were under way. I guess this was what must have gone in her mind:

1. Get the hair cut done at any cost.

2. Get it done without a barber.

I was happy to get my hair cut done without a barber. Mom had become my make shift barber, Margeret the make over mega momma. She graseped bunches of the lush, black strands of mine (which were fairly overgrown) and cut at them with her tailoring scissors. BIIG MISTAKE!!

Mom, at heavy insistance from aunt sat down to cut her hair “just a wee bit to trim the curls” as she put it. AGAIN BIIG MISTAKE!!

Aunt had a diagonally receding bob cut that varied from shoulder length to her ear. Top it with guests arriving for her daughter’s marriage ceremony in a few hours. Mom finally corrected the cut in the end, just that the length of the hair was a lot lesser.

I had three horns at the end of it. I,  for the first time, agreed voluntarily to go the barber.