After another exhibition of photographic newspaper files, some living art presented at a prata place over a salted lassi.
The place was crowded with Tamils; always a privilege gaining admittance to such a circle.
Rather than taking the waiter's suggestion for a table in the corner, sharing with an accommodating old uncle was preferable. All the waiters were Tamil, the food and drink, colours & decorations. In that round the enduring culture was absorbed from all sides.
Lakshmi had been discovered on the first visit to the Indian quarter. The blank looks from waiters & patrons never succeeded in masking the surprise at the foreigner.
Behind and one row back a heavy head sagging toward the table showed an unusual coiffure. This chap’s visit to his barber you would very much like to see. Every couple weeks the fellow went for colouring, trim and styling. Watching the artistry would fascinate.
At first the chap sat alone. Later a younger companion, a relative or close acquaintance, joined from out back.
The man appeared fixed on something in his lap. With his chair out he sagged forward, heavy-set and big bellied, as would soon be properly revealed. Pumpkin scone and glasses.
Neat urban gent in the common uniform of his class: blue striped shirt, trousers and polished shoes, in this case without socks. A Tamil newspaper had been cast aside. Later against the sagging an old green phone was clutched tight.
When the chin reached the breast-bone it seemed the man might fall from his perch—with a slight alteration of scene, face first into apple or custard pie.
In the event, he always righted himself in time, raised his weary head and batted away the drowsiness with blinks and gasps. One could not be sure, but at one point it seemed the young waiter unceremoniously roused him. Not in this place, Mister.
At first the assumption was early-60s; in fact that was out by a decade or more.
Before the by-play between his companion and the pals at the table behind, the flourishes of the barber gripped the attention. It was certainly an artful arrangement. Mostly the colour was lustrous black—not coal exactly. So far as possible the pate had been covered by swinging long strands from at least three different quarters. These flaps reached from behind as well as the sides and were stuck down by oil. Tyre marks in dirt; sail rope on the jetty. On his pillow turning in the man would spread a towel—it would save daily washing.
From two tables back an estimate had the tape running off the reel: close to 9-10inch strands. The barber of King Midas faced a simpler challenge.
Between noddings-off the pen from the shirt pocket was deployed for calculation. Slips of paper and plastic, with lottery tickets piling on the table. Notes produced for the cashier at the counter were carried across by the younger companion.
The moustache was matching colour. Every so often the deeper breaths produced sudden dropping of the jaw, as if a hinge had snapped. Missing teeth completed the ruin.
One could not find a better fall-guy from the silent era. Yet mornings this man faced the mirror just the same. The oil helped in the wind too.
It was not difficult to understand the fun at the old uncle’s expense. The companion might have been a nephew or neighbour, in cahoots with the chaps at the table behind. Every two minutes the lads in rear looked over the droopy head, nodding and big-eyeing their pal. Quick glimmers here that were never caught by the old sod, the daft old mullet.
On the paper the calculations were referenced from old lottery tickets. In-between dozes decisive marks were etched in the boxes of new tickets. For the loose oddments while he worked, the phone acted as paperweight; dozing it was clutched tight.
One of the tickets held the chance of rich ringgit. In case of strike the new implants would be the first splurge.
When the time arrived to give the attendant the final selection a tenner was produced. Off the fellow went on the errand.
There would be property and cash before very long.
Uncle needed a wash at the stand under the stair, an arduous passage for levering the belly. Back at table the lads behind sprung up to help landing on the chair. All finest graces and warm smiles.
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
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