Hairdressers

Yesterday I was walking in the street and I found a hairdresser’s. I liked the six hairdressers sitting down on the door. They seemed nice and funny people. They called me and offered me a good price: 35 rupees, 50 cents of euro, for cutting my hair, shaving and doing a head massage. Little time later I met myself sitting down in an old armchair, with six funny people surrounding me. One of them began to cut my hair, other brought me a cup of tea, other took my hand and other sat down in the same armchair and started me to ask the typical questions that all the Indian people usually do: what’s your name?, what’s your country’s name?, are you married?, do you have any children?, how many brothers and sisters do you have?, are your parents alive?, what is your job and how much do you earn?, etc.

The funniest part of this kind of indiscreet interviews is that you can create a new character every time. This time, for example, during one hour in the hairdresser’s, I was a famous Italian writer, married with an actress and having three little children. At the end, of course, all of the hairdressers wanted to take some pictures with me!