Let me start with a confession—I’m a bit of a miser when it comes to getting a haircut. I usually go to a local barber who charges a mere Rs 100/- (USD 1.25, GBP 1) for a haircut. Surprisingly, despite my frugality, I always tip my barber generously, giving him Rs 50/-, which is a whopping 50% of his fee. The barber appreciates my generosity and sometimes even treats me to a free head massage when things aren’t too busy. However, there’s a catch.

Almost every time I walk out of that barber shop, I can’t help but feel dissatisfied with the way my hair looks. The first day after the haircut is followed by several days of waiting for my hair to grow out a bit, and during that time, the memory of the disappointing haircut fades away. Sadly, my experience hasn’t been much better when I’ve tried the services of more upscale salons and stylists, despite shelling out anywhere from Rs 500/- to Rs 2000/- per haircut. On those occasions, I usually skip the tip. It’s not that I don’t want to tip them; I simply choose not to. You see, most of the time, these hair stylists incessantly brag about how they groom the various film and TV stars, claiming to be their personal hair stylists.

Let me assure you that I’m a kind-hearted person. I genuinely encourage them to share their stories of working with these celebrities because I understand that it’s a highlight of their professional lives. Why would I want to take that pleasure away from them? But here’s the problem—what about my own haircut? Unfortunately, I continue to suffer at the hands of these self-proclaimed superstars (or perhaps they’re just delusional).

Years ago, I came to a realisation that I must make peace with being unhappy after a haircut. I started to believe that there’s a price to pay for dissatisfaction, whether it’s Rs 100/-, Rs 500/-, or Rs 2000/-. So, a haircut becomes a matter of choice—how much am I willing to pay to be dissatisfied? Some days, Rs 100/- seems reasonable, while other days I dare to be adventurous and shell out Rs 2000/-. It was about time I sought some counselling, and who better to turn to than my personal and arguably the best critic in town—my dear wife.

A brief, very brief, intro to my wife is necessary at this point. My wife goes to one of the best hairstylists in town. It would be improper for me to disclose the amount she pays for each visit, as it reaches a big figure that shouldn’t be discussed in public. The salon and the hairstylist’s fees don’t deter my wife. She firmly believes that “there is no price we can put on being satisfied.” True to her words and beliefs, she always returns from her hair treatments, cuts, and styling sessions at preferred salons with a smile of contentment. She serves as a positive example, despite the dent in our pockets. In the realm of being satisfied after a haircut, she is my role model, and I can’t help but envy her.

This year, on my birthday, my wife decided to gift me a haircut at a salon of her choice, accompanied by a hairstylist she highly recommended. I’m not fond of expensive gifts, or gifts in general. I’m a bit of a miser at heart. I despise the idea of money, whether it’s mine or someone else’s, being wasted on unnecessary indulgences. Initially, I politely declined the offer, but eventually agreed because, as all married men know, no discussion or argument with one’s wife has ever been won. I am no exception. I suppressed my austere feelings and joined my wife on her next salon visit. She reminded me that securing an appointment with her preferred stylist is an achievement in itself, and it would be a missed privilege if I didn’t take advantage of it.

Upon arriving at the salon, I was greeted warmly, offered a beverage, and I couldn’t help but notice a charming elderly lady at the reception. I complimented her on her looks and engaging personality, to which she smiled and gestured for me to take a seat. We engaged in a pleasant conversation, during which she expressed her fondness for men with salt and pepper hair. She shared how her husband had also gone gray when they were young, and she insisted that he never dyed his hair because it suited him perfectly. It was refreshing to hear her agreement that salt and pepper hair worked well for men of my age, although my wife might not fully concur. She insists that dissatisfied and opinionated people like me can try streaking the hair. We conversed for a few more minutes until when the hair stylist arrived, exchanged greetings and escorted me to my designated station.

Once seated, the stylist inquired if I had any specific preferences for my haircut. Being a straightforward person, I took the opportunity to express my perpetual disappointment after every haircut. I mentioned how previous stylists often boasted about grooming popular film and TV stars, which seemed would also influence my final look after the haircut, but alas! Additionally, I humorously shared my wife’s suggestion that I should dye the hair or at least get them streaked. The stylist listened patiently, attentively absorbing my words.

When I ran out of things to say, she looked at me intently and said, “Amit, you are no Hritik, SRK, or Salman, and you must understand this and set your expectations accordingly.” I was taken aback by her blunt honesty and lack of sugarcoating. I didn’t know how to respond, so I chuckled and replied, “I know, I know…”

She continued to gaze at me, her expression serious, as if my chuckle belittled the significance of her advice. I began scanning the salon for my wife, desperate for an escape to spare myself from further embarrassment. Clearing her throat, she commanded, “Look at me.” I obliged. She proceeded, “You could be Ratan Tata, Aditya Birla, and Rishad Premji, all rolled into one. May I style your hair to match their stature and personality? Is that acceptable to you?”

Never before had I been rendered speechless, nor I had been elevated to such heights of “manifestation”. Somehow, I managed to mutter a feeble “yes” and closed my eyes. The stylist commenced her work, and for the next few eternal minutes, all I could hear were the rhythmic sounds of scissors snipping away. Behind my closed eyelids, I conjured images of Ratan Tata in his youth—smart, debonair, and gradually transformed myself into his likeness. I liked what I saw. Snip! Snip! Then, I envisioned Aditya Birla during his MIT days, exuding confidence and sophistication. I liked that too. Snip! Snip! Finally, I embraced Rishad Premji, feeling at ease in my own skin. Snip! Snip!

This continued for about 15 to 20 minutes, and then there was silence. The stylist’s hands delicately worked through my hair, accompanied by the gentle sound of a spray and a few more minor final snips near my temples. Throughout the entire process, I kept my eyes closed in anticipation, in hope, but mostly in an attempt to hide my moist eyes.

Eventually, she broke the silence and asked, “What do you think?” I gradually opened my eyes, allowing the sight to gradually sink in. It took a moment for me to fully comprehend the transformation that had taken place. And there, staring back at me in the mirror, was a perfect reflection of who I am. I loved this man. Finally, I realised that all these years, my hair had been moulded in the wrong “manifestations” of some film or TV star. I am a businessman — a strategist, a hands-on manager, a doer, and a thorough professional —and my hairstyle should reflect all of this. I left the salon feeling confident in my own skin.

As we walked out of the salon, my wife asked with anticipation, “Hope you liked your birthday gift?” I smiled and replied, “Yes, I do.”

In the end, I didn’t have to pay the bill since the haircut was a birthday gift, but the experience reminded me that there are artists and professionals all around us, and there are aspects of ourselves that live dormant within us. I learned that in the company of the right artist or professional, those hidden qualities manifest in the right ways. This time, I manifested and modelled myself as Ratan Tata, Aditya Birla, and Rishad Premji. Do I need to say more about how satisfied I finally am after two decades of trial and error?

Haircuts, barbers, and hair stylists—they hold more significance than we often realise. Beyond the surface-level desire for a good haircut, they can uncover a sense of identity and self-expression. And while I may still be a price-sensitive customer, I’ve come to appreciate the importance of finding the right artist who understands and brings out the best version of ourselves.

The next time you find yourself in a barber’s chair, take a moment to reflect on the person you are and the person you aspire to be. After all, there’s more to a haircut than just trimming some strands—it’s an opportunity for manifestation and transformation, a chance to embrace your true self.

P.S. : On the way out, I met the old lady again. She was getting a pedicure. She spotted me and asked, “How was your experience today?” I replied, “It was very good, thank you for asking.” The doorman whispered as I passed the exit door, “Memsaab is the owner of the salon and she is very particular about customer satisfaction.”