Kik: hairpassion18

Since I was 10, I accompanied my Mom (nickname 'Dimple') everywhere she went in the afternoon as she didn't want to me to be home alone. Like many other Indian housewives, she loved spending her free time doing things that her husband would not approve of – like shopping things that her husband wouldn't buy for her, hangout with friends my Dad wouldn't want to her to meet. In other words, explore her freedom and leisurely do things between 1pm to 7pm till Dad returns from work.

One of the things Dimple loved most was getting her hair done. No matter what the occasion was, but yes, she loved spending hours in a local hair salon. The salon was for women clients only but the stylists were both men and women. Mr. Kay, a professional certified male hair stylist in his late 30s was her "man" during her visits. Why am I saying this? You will learn that soon. Kay, himself was handsome and no less than George Clooney in his looks. I watched Kay spend hours stroking, blow drying, coloring, straightening Dimple's natural long black waist length hair. As a kid, I thought length of her hair is directly proportional to number of hours required on a salon chair. Her 3 feet (36 inches) long hair needed 3 hours for grooming. The salon used to be empty/vacant in the afternoon and hence not all stylists were required to be present in the salon due to low business hours. Dimple used to fix her appointments with Kay and at least twice a week. At times there would be a impromptu visit around 6pm but for not more than an hour. I used to unofficially accompany her for those ones.

A typical visit would be like me entering the salon with her. Kay would handover couple of comic books and few toffees so I get drowned in my fantasy world of Spider man and Super man. While Dimple would go and sit on a salon chair, facing those huge mirror with light bulbs around it. She would stare in Kay eyes with lots of glow on her cheeks and frowning eyes. She was smiling. Dimple would either sport a huge hair bun just above her head or in a long thick braid. In that case, her braid would go past her waist.

If it was in a bun then Kay would simple use his big palm, yes he was a tall guy with a well built, and slowly twist her bun in a counter clockwise direction. This would make her bun slide all the way from top of her head to slowly sliding over her neck and hit the back of chair and within no time I could see her long and loose hair. This view was mesmerizing. I didn’t know why but yes it was.

And if her hair was in a long braid then Kay would stand right next to her chair, lift her braid with both of his hands and keep her braid on her shoulder and chest. He would then chat with her sharing certain ways, styles, do's and don'ts and slowly start with pulling off that tiny rubber band at the very end and slowly undo her braid inch by inch. She always listened to him with great interest and slowly shake her head in agreement.

I would be watching all of these steps from 7 feets away with partial interest till I see Kay getting in his act. He would usually stand on the right of her chair and with his left hand, he would start massaging back of her head. There would be pin drop silence in the salon. He would continue massage for several minutes while he would be holding Dimple’s right hand. Their palms joined and fingers tightly holding each other. I thought of it would be part of massage process. Her eyes would be closed with no smile on her face. After almost 10mins he would leave her hand and stop massaging. There would be a short break and during this I felt she was asleep but no.

Kay would then revolve her chair away from the mirror. Make her face me. She would give me a smile and point at my comic book with finger…asking me to concentrate. I would take another bite of my toffee and try to concentrate in my comic book. But honestly, I was always interested in what would happen next. Kay would walk towards her hair. Make her head bend a little in the front as if she is checking out her own belly button. And he would slowly lift all of her heavy hair in his hands flip it over her face. This view would be like a dark black water falls of silky hair starting from her head and reaching her feet. Kay would slowly run his fingers in her hair starting from his head and progress towards the ends. I would see his hands softly touching her knees in the process. He would then want to spray water from a dispenser in her hair.

Kay knew I liked the water spray a lot and would wink at me and point at a white water dispenser kept on the desk. Without uttering a word, he used to offer me to spray water in her hair. While her head bent and hair in front of her face I knew Dimple couldn’t see me. I never said no and grabbed the bottle. Standing in front of that thick black silky hair and slowly spraying water in her hair would give me goosebumps. As I continued spraying water all across her hair, Kay would run a large comb in her hair. He had to apply some pressure to make the comb dig and run through her hair. This used to last for few mins and Kay would smiling wink at me and point me back to my seat. The entire experience of spraying water in her hair watch dry strands turn into wet silk would give me mixed feelings about everything.

Next, he would her help flip all of her hair on her back and revolve her seat again facing the mirror wall.

If it was a blow dry session then he would get her hair washed on a different seat where she would face the ceiling wearing headphones. Kay would apply shampoo in her hair and let it soak for few mins. He would then offer me to help him blow-dry her hair by holding the dryer. He thought me to follow his comb while I am holding a blow dryer. I used to get tired doing this as her hair was long and thick.

She didn’t mind me assisting Kay. There was a reason behind this. Not because she wanted me to become a hair stylist some day. But because Kay was her ex.

Time passed by and I was soon hitting the age of puberty, such comics were not of my interest anymore. I would now concentrate on what were they talking. Why would she need appointment from only him. Why would they hold hands during hair-massage. And was it only restricted to holding hands? At that age, I was excited and inquisitive about things like kissing, caressing, hugging and would crave to watch a man and woman especially someone as beautiful as Dimple doing that. Because, by now, I was fan of hers and her hair. There would not be any single day where I would not like to watch her doing her hair, undoing her bun, blow-drying her hair after showers. I did my best to be around her when she needed me to help her out with her hair. It became an unwritten ritual for me. Totally messed up in my head.

(continued...)

Kik: hairpassion18