Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Random Lives
I was on my way home early this evening, when I decided, out of the blue, that it was time to have a haircut. I've always gone to this same barber since I was 6 years old--- except for those times when the line was so long that I'd rather have my haircut elsewhere, than to wait... or at those times when the barbershop had to relocate and I still haven't found its new location. I have always preferred to have my haircut in this particular area, rather than go to those high end barber shops. For one thing, it's very near our house. And hey, the price is dirt cheap. I'm no cheapskate, but why spend so much more on practically the same thing? But I guess the main reason is the ambience. The local color. It is a place where I can mingle with the real people... the people i don't get to interact with regularly. Those people that I hardly notice when i go on with my busy life.
You can say I grew old with my barber. He watched me grow, from a child to a young adult, and I watch him change, from a young man full of promise, full of hopes and dreams, driven by ambition... to a man who seems resigned to his fate. When before he used to be full of energy, now he seems like a man who has grown weary and tired of life. For someone that I have known for the past 20 years, it's amazing how I still see him as an acquaintance. 20 years of knowing a person--- you'd figure that I would think of him as someone who's more than an acquaintance. I don't feel a strong bond between us that would make me think of him as a friend. Just a relationship between a barber and his customer, born out of convenience and familiarity. I just got used to the routine. Sure there's the occasional small talk, wherein I've learned some of his family problems, women problems, and the usual monetary problems. I mean, how far can a barber's salary actually go? He seems to have a bit of pride, also. Each time the barber shop changes locations, he speaks as if he owns the place. I wonder why he can't tell me the truth... the truth is evident, after all. With his questions, he got to know a few details about me. Where I went to school, that I eventually went to a public university, and subsequently went to med school... but for the past few months, he has been asking fewer questions, sometimes he doesn't even speak at all, as if in some deep thought. To him, I seem to be perennially in Med school, and I don't really think I should tell him I'm officially a doctor already. I can somehow see how he's feeling through those sad eyes, but I don't really think it would be proper for me to ask him what the matter was. It may be a private matter and I may seem to be prying--- he might not think of me as a friend after all. He might not be comfortable pouring out his problems to a simple customer. THis evening, he was again quiet, and I somehow prefer it that way. I was tired, and I preferred it to be strictly business this evening. But when I heard some of the conversations inside the barber shop, I seemed to have put on my invisibility cloak again, and observed the strangers around me.
There was this woman sitting on a stool, apparently the new caretaker of the barber shop. SHe keeps complaining of this terrible headache she has, and how she hasn't been able to sleep much for weeks. My barber told her she should see a doctor, but she said she'd rather not. For a moment, I was afraid he would tell her that I was a Doctor. I gues he still thinks I'm in my early years in Med School. I guess staying quiet was shameful, but I was still afraid to officially start practicing my field in the outside world, with no one to back me up. Plus the fact that I was tired... and the fact that I won't normally give advise if it wasn't asked of me... I wasn't born to be that brave and bold. Soon she began telling my barber how her husband has been cheating on her, how her children hate her, how her eldest son told her she was shit and they're better off without her. Then she talks about her way of releasing stress--- driving a motorcycle on top speed without a helmet on... not caring at all if she dies or not... actually wishing she would have an accident, so she could end it all. I can only imagine all the hurts and pain that this lady could be going through for her to think of taking the easy way out... just like that.
Swith channels to the other barber, who has no customer. he's boorish, garish, loud. A complete contrast to the souls I have previously mentioned. telling nasty jokes, flirting with one lady who keeps on avoiding his advances. Touching several people even in private parts, all in the name of fun. He laughs again, and the people around him laugh with him. Even the problematic lady seemed to catch some of his contagious laughter, though despair was still evident in her eyes. I have known this barber for a long time also, sometimes i get a haircut from him. He's a real talker. He keeps on telling tall tales even if you're not paying attention. And he's fond of making jokes. These jokes seem to be his outlet, laughter seems to be his means to hide all the pain that he feels. i can see that in those few moments when he becomes silent momentarily, revealing sadness in his eyes.
I was still in deep thought, quietly observing, when suddenly, someone broke through my cloak of invisibility. A few minutes earlier, an overweight cross dresser walked in, flirting with the other barber, asking for a free shave. He eventually obliged, after several threats of more seduction. The cross dresser made small talk with the other patrons, with several naughty stories. My cloak vanished when he made small talk with me. He asked several questions, and I was wary to give any answers. Some questions were indeed prying, and somewhat improper. I know his ilk--- i have had several encounters with his kind. Good thing my barber was almost done with his deed. I paid him, gave the usual generous tip, and said my goodbyes. I kept looking back though, if there was a lurker behind me. Someone whom I have observed enough, who might have a hidden agenda for such small talk.
As i walked home, I can't help but think about those people I've just encountered, how difficult lives must be for them. In the eyes of these different people, it is quite confusing how on one hand we see our God creating a beautiful world, yet he allows it to be littered with pain, confusion, ugliness, and even madness. I have interacted with a lot of people... in hospitals, during community works... and it would seem that pain, sadness, and suffering are the prevalent emotions in our world. It's evident when one simply stood still, and observes the people around him. It's that prevalent. even when I'm out getting myself drunk, I encounter a lot of people filled with pain, and many of those people are friends that I' close to. It's hard to see the beauty in this world when majority seem to paint a bleak picture. Maybe it's a horrible world after all, we just see beauty when we choose to see it.
We only see beauty when we choose to imagine it.
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