The GENTLEMAN'S Refuge

Kannagi Desai traces the enduring bond between men & their barbers

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Growing up, I often observed my grandfather and father settling into the same barber chairs, as they had done for decades before, with an almost ritualistic fidelity.

My grandfather's barber, a wiry man well into his seventies, was more than a tradesman—he was a custodian of stories, a quiet chronicler of life's rhythms. From narrating local cricket gossip to offering philosophical musings on politics and fate, his anecdotes transformed every visit into a shared cultural moment.

For my father, visiting his barber was a nonnegotiable appointment, an oasis of tranquility amid the cacophony of modern existence. In a household of perpetual noise, whether from work calls, familial obligations, or the persistent hum of city life, his fortnightly trips offered a necessary reprieve. Over dinner recently, my uncle reflected on his relationship with his barber. everything else.” Another uncle, reminiscing about his trips to Byculla for a haircut, laughed as he described his barber as a ‘chatterbox’ who kept him updated on family gossip and local politics.

This sentiment is a golden thread that weaves through generations. Across time, geography, and culture, the barber chair has played the role of a trusty sanctuary where time slows down, connection flourishes, and the ordinary transforms into the extraordinary.

HISTORICAL HAVEN

Barbershops have been around for millennia, serving as cultural and social bastions. In India, since ancient times, barbers, known as nayis, operated beneath the vast canopies of banyan trees, their stations doubling as arenas of local discourse and community exchange. These nayis were not mere groomers; they were storytellers, matchmakers, and healers, administering herbal remedies alongside meticulous haircuts. The practice of open-air barbershops continues in our villages even to this day.