The monks will help me

That I have these irrational homicidal fantasies each time I’m in a barbershop is no secret (or if it was, it isn’t any longer) but the dark thoughts that entered my mind today were wholly justified. What happened was this: the man getting his hair cut in the chair next to mine perched his little kid (2 or 3 years tops) alongside him and then, for a good 15 minutes, kept up an incessant chatter for the child’s benefit. It ran along the lines “Dekho baby, sheeshe mein kaun hai? Dadu hai? Kya ho raha hai? Dadu ka baal kaat raha hai?” etc. This sort of thing might be tolerable in very small doses but he went on and on and on without stopping. The chap cutting his hair couldn’t do his work properly, and frankly even the kid looked very annoyed.

Anyway, just around the time this man leant over to show the child the bits of hair scattered on the floor and said “Dekho baby – woh kya hai? Baal hai?” – just around that time, I entered a blissful parallel universe where I seized the nearest pair of scissors and plunged it deep into the man’s head. It was gorgeousness and gorgeosity. But it was just a parallel universe. Now, 20 minutes later, I’m blogging about this while the man, doubtless still alive, is probably walking around the PVR complex, pointing at people and telling his kid, “Woh kya hai? Ladka hai? Ladki hai?” Anyway, thank heaven for psychopathic fantasies, they keep us sane.

This evening I’m off for Palampur, where I’ll spend a day or two frolicking with gentle monks and learning all about peace on earth. Should be back Wednesday. Till then…