Son and mom

It was a blazing hot summer afternoon in Lucknow. The sun was high up, and the streets shimmered in the heat. Sharmila, a 35-year-old mother in her elegant cotton saree, was walking with her 10-year-old son Shyam. Sharmila was a modern, cheerful woman at heart, but she loved her roots and always carried herself gracefully in her sarees, her long thick hair neatly cliped behind. “Shyam beta, bas thoda aur, the barbershop is nearby,” she said, wiping sweat off her forehead with her saree pallu. “Ma, it’s so hot! Hope they have the fan working at Bhola chacha’s shop!” Shyam complained, fanning himself with his hands. They finally reached Bhola’s small barbershop — only to find it closed with a hanging board. “Aye haye, Yeh bhi na… not even informed.” Shyam groaned. “Ma, ab kya kare? I want to go home!” Just then, a friendly neighbourhood uncle passing by pointed to a new unisex salon a little ahead. Sharmila hesitated. She wasn’t used to these fancy salons with English-speaking staff. “Chalo beta… dekh lete hain,” she finally said. They entered the salon. Cool AC air welcomed them. A young, stylish saloonist greeted them with a smile. She wore a full black outfit, her hair was in a trendy bob cut. “Hello ma’am! who is going to get a Haircut today ?” she asked, gesturing to Shyam. Sharmila smiled awkwardly. “Haan my beta… haircut haircut…” The saloonist chuckled and guided Shyam to the chair. “Which style ma’am?” Sharmila pointed to Shyam’s sweaty head and made a scissor motion. “Garmi… chhota chhota cut karo, samjhi?” “Okay okay ma’am, summer cut, I know,” the saloonist nodded. The saloonist quickly tied a cape around Shyam’s neck and sprayed his thick, wavy hair with cool water. Shyam made a face as the mist hit his cheeks. The saloonist picked up the clippers, checked the length setting, and switched it on. The soft buzzing sound filled the air. Vrrrrrrrrrr Shyam’s eyes widened. “Wah… kya machine hai Ma!” Sharmila chuckled as saloonist gently pushed Shyam’s head forward and ran the clipper across the back of his head. A neat, wide strip of hair fell onto the cape. Then she continued, buzzing the sides short, blending the hair smoothly. The top was left a tiny bit longer, enough for a little spiky style. “Done!” the saloonist announced, giving Shyam’s tiny spikes .Shyam looked at himself in the mirror, moving his head side to side.The saloonist dusted his neck, removed the cape, and handed him a tiny chocolate from a glass bowl on the counter. After finishing Shyam’s cut, the saloonist turned to Sharmila. “Ma’am, for you too?” Sharmila, looking at her frizzy hair in the mirror, thought maybe a little trim would feel good in this heat. “Bas thoda… chhota chhota cut kardo,” she gestured with her fingers, meaning just a little trim. Now here’s where the real fun started. The saloonist, struggling with her Hindi, caught only “chhota chhota” and assumed the mother wanted the same summer cut as her son. She smiled. “Same haircut, ma’am?” Sharmila thought she was asking if she also wanted haircut, so she confidently nodded. “Haan haan… haircut.” “Same same?” the saloonist double-checked, pointing at Shyam. Sharmila thought she was asking if she liked Shyam’s haircut, so she smiled and said, “Haan, accha hai!” Before Sharmila could realize, the saloonist draped a cape over her and picked up the clipper. Vrrrzzzzzz The sound of the clipper starting sent a tiny shiver down Sharmila’s nape . “Arre… scissors se karo ?” she asked nervously. “Ma’am, this is better than scissors for summer. Very fast and easier. See your son? Handsome!” And Sharmila blushed and replied “ yes my son handsome handsome ” then she notices something weird that more hair was falling than expected and she could feel a massaging kind of sensation at her scalp. “Arre… ruk ruk… kya kar rahi hai!” Sharmila questioned with doubt. The saloonist, smiling brightly, thought she was complimenting. “Yes yes ma’am, very good!” and moved the clippers on her forehead directly and made 2 to 3 passes. By now, a good stubbles patch of Sharmila’s scalp was visible.Yeh kya kiya?!!” she shrieked. Shyam, sitting nearby, burst into uncontrollable laughter. “Hahaha! Ma! you are getting same haircut like mine!” The saloonist, finally sensing something was wrong, paused. “Ma’am… you said chhota… same haircut?” Sharmila realized the miscommunication. “Arey bhagwan… main bola tha bas trim kar… chhota matlab little little… not full cut!” The saloonist panicked. “Sorry ma’am… very sorry… now these styles look very trendy and common nowadays .” Sharmila sighed, “Ab kar dala toh pura kar de, don’t leave me like this only.” “Sure ma’am!” The saloonist happily continued, buzzing the rest of Sharmila’s head to a neat, shorter-than-Shyam crew cut. Sharmila watched locks fall to the floor. At one point, she chuckled seeing Shyam making funny bald jokes in the mirror. As the cut finished, Sharmila rubbed her head, feeling the breeze tickle her exposed scalp. The saloonist styled both of them, applied a bit of gel on Shyam’s tiny spikes and Sharmila’s neat fuzz. When they stepped out of the salon, the entire street seemed to turn and look. Shyam grinned. “Ma… you look cool!” Sharmila, adjusting her saree, laughed. “Chup kar nautanki.” By the time they reached home, neighbours had already started gathering with curious stares and surprised gasps. The next few days were full of neighbourhood gossip, a few relatives’ taunts, and loads of Shyam’s jokes. But slowly, Sharmila began enjoying the ease of it — no combing, no oiling, no headaches.