text: “Medium or Short,” asked the barber with a generous paunch. “ Hair & beard medium trim please.” I replied. My hair and beard had grown tirelessly during the lockdown; moreover, I wanted to avoid a haircut until the situation due to the pandemic settled down. Thanks to the advent of technology, I could now book a barber with a few taps on my iPhone. Manju was the hair stylist who was alloted to me. I was unsure how to proceed. So, I remained silent. But the mirror in the room reflected his smile-- a subtle one covered by a vizor and a mask. I wasn’t sure how to react. The mirror in the room gave away the confusion on my face.s covered with a white translucent membrane which spread over from my upper torso to my below my knees. As the electric trimmer whizzed away, I started the conversation. “ How long have you been working for UC?” “ 3 months sir.” “Before this?” “ Own saloon sir with 3 employee” I was unsure how to proceed. So, I remained silent. But the mirror in the room reflected his smile-- a subtle one covered by a vizor and a mask. I wasn’t sure how to react. The mirror in the room gave away the confusion on my face. “ Not first time Sir. I have worked with UC before.” “ Oh is it?” I said. Now, I was curios. ‘Why would someone alternate between being an employee and entrepreneur?’ Manju had turned off the electric trimmer and the room fell silent again. He now reached out to the bright red scissors and the black comb. “ I started by working as a hair stylist in my town. I learn business and get experience. Got a loan and open own barber shop. My saloon was royal, Sir! I introduced the shampooing sink; people could now come in between work to get a hair cut. It was big hit.” “ Wow nice!” “ But it very grand for my town. No profit.” “At least it made you famous.” I said trying to sound positive. He nodded. “ I realised that I should move to city. City ocean sir, my town just lake. UC first time sir. I worked for 2 years save money plus borrow money from friend. Again open saloon.” “ Town or Bengaluru?” “ In my town.This time simple saloon. Daily expenses much lower. Suddenly my friend fall sick. He need money for cancer treatment. “ Manju paused, as he snipped at my moustache. His deft hands clipped away at specific spots: making the finer cuts, to even out the hair length. I looked at him, eager to her the rest of the story. He picked up a smaller mirror and held it up, parallel to the existing mirror in the room, giving me a view of the back of my head. “ Nice.” “ So you sold your salon again?” I blurted, unable to control my curiosity any longer. “ Yes sir. My friend not asking. He need more money than he give me. I sell again. So I give all money from sale to him. I will work again and open a saloon, this time in Bengaluru.” The conversation had me hooked and I was completely unaware that Manju had cleaned up the hair and packed up his equipment. The determination in his voice was very evident. “ Is your friend better now?” I asked as he was about to leave. With a voice filled with heavy emotion. He said,” Friend recover from Cancer but got Corona at hospital. He died today morning.” “ Please give rating sir. Thank you.