As his golden-dial watch strikes seven, the shutter of the salon rolls up, and the previous day’s aftershave lotion scent leaves the room. Clad in a blue shirt with the words ‘Indhumathi Hair Salon’ woven in yellow thread, there awaits a series of chores for Sekar Kumar. “My work is my God. Indha thozhil dhan enakum en kudumbathukkum saapadu podudhu (This job feeds me and my family).”
Services start as early as 7.30 am. Usually those in a hurry throng in — school students and office goers. Then, between 9 am and 11 am, older people walk in for an elaborate haircut and shave. “And then, it is just the radio music and me till four in the evening,” he says.
Despite the rise of luxury grooming chains, small and mid-scale salons dominate Chennai’s hairdressing scene. But what makes these salons hold their ground amid upcoming competitions? It is about affordability, skill, and an irreplaceable personal connection.
Conversations and the community
In a day, Sekar attends to 20-odd customers, who predominantly come in for haircuts and shaving. While this is the usual scene on weekdays, customers come in for facials, bleaches, hair spa, and massages on weekends. “Massages are in high demand. People are still grappling with their fast-paced lives. Customers sit with rigid shoulders, carrying the weight of everyday lives. I make sure I talk to them, calm them down, and make them feel relaxed. But come Monday, all the relieved stress sits like a monster on the shoulders again,” he explains. The clients talk to him about their family problems, work struggles, and personal secrets. “My chair becomes a confession box for them,” he adds. Sekar continues that over time, he has become more than a barber. The low charges are probably why his customers return to the salon. He says, “ I take Rs 150 for a haircut and shave.”
Beyond his salon work, Sekar also extends his services at deaths. This practice also comes with a set of prejudices. Arul Mani, a hairdresser, has to close his shop the entire day when he goes to deaths. “They (the customers) say it is a bad omen, and I would pass on the bad luck to them. Because of this, I lose that day’s pay,” he laments, adding, “I am also in such a situation that I cannot deny this work. My sincerity towards my service is the same everywhere — be it my shop or the place of death.” For all the respect he holds for his craft, society does not return it in equal measure. The rhythmic snip of scissors, the sound of water spray, murmurs — nothing makes the job at deaths any different. “I do not give it much of a thought. I am here for the love of the art — haircut — and the bills I have to pay. However, some individuals praise me,” he says.
A client sitting on a wooden chair with shaving cream slathered on his beard says, “I have been coming here for 15 years. Arul does not just cut my hair; he knows me well.”
I am 81 and have been in this business for 50 years. I haven’t adapted to modern technology or fancy cuts but I have a set of loyal customers and their kindness is my livelihood. That is enough for me.
M Rajaguru, MR Salon, Ambattur
Rooted in every trim
Having come to the city from Tirunelveli in the late 60s as a teenager, K Devraj worked in his father’s salon, Nellai Hair Dressing, which has seen clientele from three generations. “I used to sweep, clean, and buy tea for the customers back then. When I was free, I observed the hair stylists and their hand movements. That is how I learned hairdressing skills,” he remarks. He started working as a stylist in the 80s, after his father’s demise.
“In my time,” he says, “We did not have electronic machines like today. Now, we have trimmers with various levels and modes. People are also clear on what they want. They come with hairstyle pictures on their mobile. Earlier, it was only military cut, but now you have Box cut, Korean cut, Fade cut, etc.”
With a tone of nostalgia, Devraj goes back to the days when he sharpened scissors and razors with a rock under candlelight and bulbs. “Previously, our shop had a clay roof, a table fan, three mirrors, but now, I have two shops, ceiling fans, air conditioners, and a concrete building. With these rebrandings, I changed the shop’s name to the New Nellai Hairdressers,” Devraj traces the changes.
More than just a haircut
During Covid, three of his employees walked out and started their own shops on the same street. “They are all my students, whom I groomed. There comes a time when every employee wants to achieve more. They have their aspirations. They left and started their business, and I am happy for them,” says Devraj.
One of them, Ramesh*, says, “I wanted to start something of my own. I have been in this sector for more than 20 years now and always dreamt of having a shop of my own, and today, I am sitting in a space that is a result of my hard work.”
Likewise, there are many in the vicinity, and the owners share a healthy competition. “The shop owner opposite mine is my friend. We discuss and fix rates on each service,” he shares. In contrast, “big salons demean our work. Wanting to bring in more customers, they cut down on rates, and small business owners like me suffer,” he adds.
The burgeoning market of stylish salons has dampened the business. But loyalty rules. “They know my work. They trust me with their hair. After all, your hair can make or break your game. When someone trusts me with that, I tend to give my 200 percent,” Ramesh concludes.
Walking down the streets of Chennai, one will find many barber shops. Enter, and you understand the traditions, stories, and familiarity they carry. More than affordable prices, the personal bonds beckon them back.
*Name changed