Beauty has always been contested so heavily that Angela's ambitions paved way for her desires. Her 'Christian' name, and 'Chinky' looks added to her benefit. She knew the clients preferred someone unfamiliar to the commoners. This particular Saturday snoozy brunch-time, Angela was waiting for her the bleach on the extreme right hand chair's woman to dry well, as she tuned the radio restlessly. Anamika was waiting for her turn eagerly, soaking in the scene. This was where she used to come ten, may be fifteen years back, when she was a student and had to save up to get a haircut. Things in the city were way more expensive than in the outskirts. Today, she could afford a private wax, but that needed an appointment, and by instinct, she decided to stop the car in front of the shady "Angela's Parlour".
The insides hadn't changed much -- the wallpapers were reeling, but the posters of Sridevi and Madhuri were replaced by Deepika and Katrina. For the sophisticated streets, Anamika was inappropriately dressed in a loose t-shirt and very short pants, which she wore to sleep. "Sorry, I am not dressed properly" she declared herself into the age old familiarity. Angela hadn't aged. Others around her did -- her team of commoners, though Anamika realized their sorrows remained stagnant. She sat on a high chair, at the back of the three other occupied chairs. Bored of the phone calls, reporting the same things she had done and were to be done to different people, she put it on silent and decisively put one leg across the other -- exposing her unabashedly hairy thighs -- and like a queen sat to observe her surroundings.
One of the three chairs was a rectangle of white plaster, on a dark skinned woman's back, who was sleeping open-mouthed, perhaps snoring, as the mirror showed. Angela was attending to her, and in between, Anamika had a casual chat with her.
"Remember me, Didi?" Angela smiled and didn't care. It was obvious she wouldn't remember. "I have a problem, apart from the waxing I need you to solve a problem." Angela came near her. She touched her hair with the same luxury of a demi-goddess, as if she owned the place. "Too much volume, Didi! Suggest something." Something eerie happened. Anamika felt all eyes upon her asking the same question with their expression, is she crazy? She wants her silky hair reduced? The silence that followed was solemn. Anamika was on the edge of feeling guilty and had to take charge of the situation. She quickly added, "Chill Didi, some other day. How much longer for the wax?"
Momentum returned. Scissors snapped, threadbare eyebrows were perfectly arched by deft lips. Anamika went back to taking it all in. Hmmm, thankfully there are wax-sheets now in place of those used pieces of ragged clothes! Angela woke the woman. She seemed to be disturbed to get the massage. Perhaps she was enjoying a lovely dream, a break from all her duties. As her massage began, Anamika noticed the fifty-year old notice the length of her hair closely on the back mirror held firmly by feeble hands. "I think we could go shorter by another half an inch." Really? Half an inch? And what is that colour, woman? Bright red? Such a contrast to your faded indigo Fab India kurti. Why are you here? Is your college salary not enough for you to go to a better place? Or maybe, she was miserably fighting to pay-off her son's education loan. In the next chair, plumply sat a near-forty woman, now trying to find a fault in the pedicure. Bitch you want another five minutes of feet-help, don't you? Anamika was having a blast till she was told that it was now her turn, and they would begin the wax process there itself.
Though it caught her off-guard, she smiled. "Here?" Getting to know that 'yes' would be the answer, which no one would utter, she pulled her short pants even closer to make it look shorter, well, scandalous. One leg was done, along with one song "O maajhi re..." At the point when Anamika was told to turn sideways, facing the entry door, she saw a young mother and her tiny daughter enter. Her attention was no longer on the songs. "Just give her a trimming" the mother demanded. She was dressed in a desperation to appear urban. A denim, an okay top, married valuables dangling all over her wrists and verifying on her hairline. "Do you think she needs a shampoo, she just had one yesterday."
"No need" said the woman, disinterestedly, in charge of the daughter, preparing her for the slay, covering the tiny body in an austere white cotton sheet. Anamika was certain that she heard the mother leave a sigh of relief. As she came to sit and watch the daughter getting groomed, Anamika passed her a smile. "It doesn't hurt?" the mother suddenly asked.
Anamika smiled back and said, "Na, I am used to it." After a long pause she added, "You have a cute daughter." She looked at the mirror and saw the little girl smile back at her. The woman getting the massage was making sounds of relief which distracted the girl and she turned to her side. Her head was forcibly made straight and within another two minutes, her hair was trimmed and Anamika's other leg stood shining smooth as silk. "No moisturizer please."
The daughter's mother went near the hair-dresser and slowly asked, "What is the craze for waxing full arms? And for a face massage?" By now, the daughter had taken the mother's seat and was taken aback by the sight of Anamika's bare legs which stood like proud pillars. To ease her, Anamika said, "Hi! Nice bag!"
"Thank you" said she and coyly opened her backpack, rather unnecessarily to look for something she didn't know what.
"Two sixty full arms. Three hundred with underarms. Four hundred full legs. Two fifty face massage" said Angela from the other chair, like a boss. Well, she was the boss.
"What was the price of her haircut?" the mother indicated towards her daughter.
"One twenty" replied Angela.
Anamika could hear the young mother calculating impossible amounts as she settled in the chair previously held by her daughter. One of her arms was complete. She sat facing the mirror, behind the mother's back and could see her image. The song playing was, "O mere sapnon ke saudagar..." Blast from the past, what a song that was. How I liked it!
"Give me the face massage and the full arms wax." Pause. "Could you please give a discount of twenty rupees? I will need that to return home."
Angela was mechanical as ever, "Don't do underarms. No discount." She went on with her massage. The woman assigned to her asked her why she was hesitating. "Actually my husband is returning this evening and..."
Anamika was done. She got a great water rub all over her arms and legs and smiled at the daughter who was fascinated at her mother changing into a flimsy nighty. Or is she shocked? Man, the husband is in for some shock today. "How much, Didi?" She paid her amount and thanked the entire parlour party, waved a bye to the little girl and went out to her car, more confident than ever in her flimsy shorts. As Anamika started the engine, she continued thinking. No. The husband wouldn't even notice. He will have the sex in dark, and next morning note it when he would be clarifying the monthly budget and how it was spent. He would be disgusted at the unnecessary expenditure. The turn to Anamika's home arrived. How does it matter? She decided to have a good time. I will have to park in the shade and go have a shampoo before thinking of writing it all out as a story.
Anamika's unhooked her hot pink bra and came out of her black panty to stand under the shower, rinsing off the fragrance of her Japanese Cherry Blossom lather. She was back to her bare senses when the cold water touched her skin. Did I just have another hallucination or was that a creative frenzy? She checked her arms and legs. Strains of fresh hair confirmed she last went to the parlour two weeks back.
The door knocked incessantly. "Anamika? Anamika? Are you alright?" Bloody Arjun and his affection. She came out in her yellow bath-robe, sexy as ever, wet hair clinging to her jawline. "Relax Arjun. I am just three months pregnant."
Arjun left. Damn Anamika. I just picked you up from the parlour. You are not pregnant. "Come, Anamika, lunch is ready."
After another fifteen minutes she was found at the laptop, furiously typing away.
The insides hadn't changed much -- the wallpapers were reeling, but the posters of Sridevi and Madhuri were replaced by Deepika and Katrina. For the sophisticated streets, Anamika was inappropriately dressed in a loose t-shirt and very short pants, which she wore to sleep. "Sorry, I am not dressed properly" she declared herself into the age old familiarity. Angela hadn't aged. Others around her did -- her team of commoners, though Anamika realized their sorrows remained stagnant. She sat on a high chair, at the back of the three other occupied chairs. Bored of the phone calls, reporting the same things she had done and were to be done to different people, she put it on silent and decisively put one leg across the other -- exposing her unabashedly hairy thighs -- and like a queen sat to observe her surroundings.
One of the three chairs was a rectangle of white plaster, on a dark skinned woman's back, who was sleeping open-mouthed, perhaps snoring, as the mirror showed. Angela was attending to her, and in between, Anamika had a casual chat with her.
"Remember me, Didi?" Angela smiled and didn't care. It was obvious she wouldn't remember. "I have a problem, apart from the waxing I need you to solve a problem." Angela came near her. She touched her hair with the same luxury of a demi-goddess, as if she owned the place. "Too much volume, Didi! Suggest something." Something eerie happened. Anamika felt all eyes upon her asking the same question with their expression, is she crazy? She wants her silky hair reduced? The silence that followed was solemn. Anamika was on the edge of feeling guilty and had to take charge of the situation. She quickly added, "Chill Didi, some other day. How much longer for the wax?"
Momentum returned. Scissors snapped, threadbare eyebrows were perfectly arched by deft lips. Anamika went back to taking it all in. Hmmm, thankfully there are wax-sheets now in place of those used pieces of ragged clothes! Angela woke the woman. She seemed to be disturbed to get the massage. Perhaps she was enjoying a lovely dream, a break from all her duties. As her massage began, Anamika noticed the fifty-year old notice the length of her hair closely on the back mirror held firmly by feeble hands. "I think we could go shorter by another half an inch." Really? Half an inch? And what is that colour, woman? Bright red? Such a contrast to your faded indigo Fab India kurti. Why are you here? Is your college salary not enough for you to go to a better place? Or maybe, she was miserably fighting to pay-off her son's education loan. In the next chair, plumply sat a near-forty woman, now trying to find a fault in the pedicure. Bitch you want another five minutes of feet-help, don't you? Anamika was having a blast till she was told that it was now her turn, and they would begin the wax process there itself.
Though it caught her off-guard, she smiled. "Here?" Getting to know that 'yes' would be the answer, which no one would utter, she pulled her short pants even closer to make it look shorter, well, scandalous. One leg was done, along with one song "O maajhi re..." At the point when Anamika was told to turn sideways, facing the entry door, she saw a young mother and her tiny daughter enter. Her attention was no longer on the songs. "Just give her a trimming" the mother demanded. She was dressed in a desperation to appear urban. A denim, an okay top, married valuables dangling all over her wrists and verifying on her hairline. "Do you think she needs a shampoo, she just had one yesterday."
"No need" said the woman, disinterestedly, in charge of the daughter, preparing her for the slay, covering the tiny body in an austere white cotton sheet. Anamika was certain that she heard the mother leave a sigh of relief. As she came to sit and watch the daughter getting groomed, Anamika passed her a smile. "It doesn't hurt?" the mother suddenly asked.
Anamika smiled back and said, "Na, I am used to it." After a long pause she added, "You have a cute daughter." She looked at the mirror and saw the little girl smile back at her. The woman getting the massage was making sounds of relief which distracted the girl and she turned to her side. Her head was forcibly made straight and within another two minutes, her hair was trimmed and Anamika's other leg stood shining smooth as silk. "No moisturizer please."
The daughter's mother went near the hair-dresser and slowly asked, "What is the craze for waxing full arms? And for a face massage?" By now, the daughter had taken the mother's seat and was taken aback by the sight of Anamika's bare legs which stood like proud pillars. To ease her, Anamika said, "Hi! Nice bag!"
"Thank you" said she and coyly opened her backpack, rather unnecessarily to look for something she didn't know what.
"Two sixty full arms. Three hundred with underarms. Four hundred full legs. Two fifty face massage" said Angela from the other chair, like a boss. Well, she was the boss.
"What was the price of her haircut?" the mother indicated towards her daughter.
"One twenty" replied Angela.
Anamika could hear the young mother calculating impossible amounts as she settled in the chair previously held by her daughter. One of her arms was complete. She sat facing the mirror, behind the mother's back and could see her image. The song playing was, "O mere sapnon ke saudagar..." Blast from the past, what a song that was. How I liked it!
"Give me the face massage and the full arms wax." Pause. "Could you please give a discount of twenty rupees? I will need that to return home."
Angela was mechanical as ever, "Don't do underarms. No discount." She went on with her massage. The woman assigned to her asked her why she was hesitating. "Actually my husband is returning this evening and..."
Anamika was done. She got a great water rub all over her arms and legs and smiled at the daughter who was fascinated at her mother changing into a flimsy nighty. Or is she shocked? Man, the husband is in for some shock today. "How much, Didi?" She paid her amount and thanked the entire parlour party, waved a bye to the little girl and went out to her car, more confident than ever in her flimsy shorts. As Anamika started the engine, she continued thinking. No. The husband wouldn't even notice. He will have the sex in dark, and next morning note it when he would be clarifying the monthly budget and how it was spent. He would be disgusted at the unnecessary expenditure. The turn to Anamika's home arrived. How does it matter? She decided to have a good time. I will have to park in the shade and go have a shampoo before thinking of writing it all out as a story.
Anamika's unhooked her hot pink bra and came out of her black panty to stand under the shower, rinsing off the fragrance of her Japanese Cherry Blossom lather. She was back to her bare senses when the cold water touched her skin. Did I just have another hallucination or was that a creative frenzy? She checked her arms and legs. Strains of fresh hair confirmed she last went to the parlour two weeks back.
The door knocked incessantly. "Anamika? Anamika? Are you alright?" Bloody Arjun and his affection. She came out in her yellow bath-robe, sexy as ever, wet hair clinging to her jawline. "Relax Arjun. I am just three months pregnant."
Arjun left. Damn Anamika. I just picked you up from the parlour. You are not pregnant. "Come, Anamika, lunch is ready."
After another fifteen minutes she was found at the laptop, furiously typing away.
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