Pengba's Haircut

Pengba Aruuba Eshingee *

Looks like mid-life crisis has arrived even before life began. Toiling day in and day out in the private sector seems to be taking its toll.

The impact of those collections of unread self-help and motivational books -- Deepak Chopra's Golf for Enlightenment; Malcom Gladwell's David & Goliath; Sudha Murthy's Wise and Otherwise; Daniel Kahneman's Thinking, Fast and Slow and Dan Ariely's Predictably Irrational and many more -- seems to be multiplying.

At the same time the call of the roots also seems to be getting louder. When all the factors in life juxtapose in such a fashion, all you dream is of doing something of your own, no more an employee but be an employer.

Yet any sane mind wouldn't dare think of starting an enterprise in Manipur considering the current situation. The protest factory is churning at full capacity and any economic activity is the last on agenda or may not be even at all.

However, when you have been intoxicated by the inspirational quotes, you start dreaming, you start believing. That Chinese saying 'Crisis Brings Opportunities and Change' kept on flashing in the mind like a stuck DVD.

The Inner Line Permit (ILP) agitation doesn't look like ending anytime soon. As students and meira paibis go after the non-locals in Manipur, sitting miles away in that air-conditioned office the over-worked brain added another task upon itself, sniffing opportunities.

In the dreamland anything can happen.

The ILP agitators have won, Manipur yet again restrict the entry of anyone who has big eyes, brown skin, long nose, speaks a language starting with H or white skinned, blonde haired conversing in accented English. Its rightful place as the haven for the tiny-eyed, flat nosed and yellow skinned people has been restored.

Everyone is happy, it's time for celebration. All those sit-in protests have been replaced by local feasts to celebrate the achievement. Gokul, Bonny, Bala, Sushmita, Pushparani et al have endless invitations to perform in different Leikais. Man, Manipur is the happiest place in the whole World.

Thus few weeks have passed. After months of agitation the tired bodies of Manipuris have recovered and the men suddenly realised they haven't had a haircut or a shave in a long time.

Thus the Activa got started and vroomed from the shumang to the nearby barber's shop. He was a bit surprised that it's closed, deserted and no one was around. As he waited another fellow man arrived, shabby and unkempt. Both looked at each other but the 'Bhaiya' barber wasn't to be found. He had been driven out. Remember ILP won?

The scene was replicated in many localities.

Perhaps it was like the Eureka moment for someone who had been fishing for an opportunity. The seeds for the chain of 'Pengba's Haircut' were sown then. With all the non-local barbers gone, this was the best opportunity to rake in moolah.

Thus it was time for quick thinking and acting swift to gain the first mover's advantage. A super fast survey of prime spots to open a barber's shop owned, run and operated by a Meitei man! When there was so much in supply left behind by those non-local barbers and little demand, it was easy to find the best place. Rent agreement was signed at dirt cheap price and not much restoration was required. It was time for the next step.

Front page ads on Sangai Express, Poknapham and Huiyen Lanpao read like this -- Looking for Manipuri men with experience in hair cutting. Candidates must know how to hold scissors and comb and how to cut hair on head without leaving mark or splicing ears of clients. Interested candidates may appear for a walk-in interview cum practical test on Sunday, 10 am at Pengba's Haircut head office, Singjamei Chinga Mathak.

The appointed day arrived and it was a disaster. There wasn't a soul and 10 am on a Sunday appeared to be too early in Manipur. 11 am, same scene. 12 noon no one came. 1 pm, clouds of doubts over mind. 2 pm - a failed venture even before start? Just to ensure, cross checked if the newspapers had printed the ads. It was there very much indeed on the designated place. Maybe no one read it. All this while since morning a frail looking man was sitting at a corner, few steps away from the head office.

Just as one was about to crumble in despair, the man walked up. He claimed he had 20 years of hair cutting and asked if he could apply.

"If you had so much of experience why were you sitting there all this while?"

"I read your ad but I thought I am over-qualified and you may not consider me," he replied.

"What are you talking, the ad was meant to attract as many candidates as possible!"

"Ok sir, but I have one more thing to tell you," he said.

"What?"

"Your ad said Manipuri men but I am not," he confessed.

"Come on, what are you saying? But you have the appearance of a Manipuri man."

"Sir I am from Darbhanga in Bihar but I have been staying in Manipur all through my career.

When the ILP agitation peaked, I went away to have plastic surgery to look like a Manipuri man.

I thought I could stick around here that way but things aren't as easy as I thought," the man said.

The cunning fox inside me woke up and spoke like a true business man.

"Well I can help you resurrect your career but on my terms and conditions. Your salary will be 5% per haircut but can be increased to 10% if you manage more than 10 clients a day. Do we have a deal?"

Flummoxed, the man said: "Sir I earned Rs 25 per haircut those days."

"Yeah those days, not anymore. Do you want to resume your career here or should I hand you over to the local club?"

Grudgingly, helplessness writ large on his face, he agreed.

The sadist in me flashed the biggest smile in a while. The feeling of exacting revenge on an outsider who intruded to our precious land and trying to make us extinct was beyond words.

"Ok, here is the service contract and sign it. It's valid for three years and will be reviewed at the end of it. Your annual increment depends on how well are you able to handle clients, make them come back for repeat visits and most importantly how long can you hide behind the mask of plastic surgery."

He looked at it and without reading tried to sign in devanagri script.

"What? You can't sign like that. You have to learn Meitei Mayek too if you have to survive here."

Poor fellow gave up and said: "Sir, it's a question of my survival, can I do finger stamp?"

"Fair enough, but remember I hold all your keys. Your work starts from tomorrow 8 am. Agreed?"

"Do I have a choice Sir?" he replied.

Thus the first outlet of Pengba's Haircut opened. Word spread like wildfire in the Imphal valley that a barber's shop run by a Meitei man has opened. It didn't take long for all the "Haapu" looking men of Manipur lining up before the shop, two-wheelers, cars, Scorpios and the second hand illegal Pajeros driven in from Myanmar creating massive jams everyday near the shop.

Many a times, commandos had to intervene and lathi-charge just as they did when people queued up in front of petrol pumps during highway bandhs and started fighting. Nevertheless the business was booming and that 'plastic surgery' fellow was doing a brilliant job. While he clipped the scissors tirelessly, I was getting tired of counting the torn notes but the money box was getting fatter every day.

Time had arrived for the next stage of expansion and add a few more centres of Pengba's Haircut but the biggest challenge was availability of skilled workforce. Just as I was thinking on how to address the problem, a young woman in neat phanek and enaphi walked in.

"Sorry madam, we don't offer hair cutting service for ladies. We don't have that expertise."

"Sham kakke kakpa natte. Sey, letter se pao aduga mobile number do aduda phone tourakoo hayeng ayuk pung 11 phaobagi manungda," she arrogantly put an envelope on my counter and left hurriedly.

I opened the envelope and it was like Thor hurling his hammer to me to find an AK47 bullet and the letter which read "As a responsible citizen of Manipur, you must play your part in the liberation of our nation from the colonial rule. Therefore, you must contribute Rs 5 lakh to the people's movement. Call at this number XXXXXXXXXX as instructed. If you disobey us or report the matter to the police, we are not responsible for the consequences that will befall on you and your family members. And remember, a Chinese hand grenade costs just Rs 30 and we have plenty in supply."

Gobsmacked, I jumped up.

When I realised, the colleague sitting next to me held my back and yelled "Man are you ok?"

"Yeah mate am just fine."

Phew! I was glad to find myself still toiling as an employee.