We left the building and almost like she had secret drug to offer me, I followed her- dazed – through narrow walkways with colorful buildings on either sides. On my own, I would never make my way through a street like that. I thanked my new friend. The liberation I knew that was waiting for me at the other end, put a spring in my step. When she reached the doorstep of what seemed like our destination, she looked back, with an intriguing smile. I followed her into the place.
People with tattoos all over their body, piercings and wild hair colors, occupied most seats. I found a ‘distressed’ leather sofa and sat down – feeling a bit whoozy just from the atmosphere.
My friend came back, took my coat and asked me if I wanted wine, champagne or tea. Shushing a number of voices in my head, I asked for champagne. I wanted to acknowledge my complete failure at the event earlier.
As I sipped through the champagne, my friend approached me, with the smile that had now become eerily familiar. She asked me if I was ready and before I could gather my thoughts, she put her fingers with neatly manicured nails through a pair of scissors and started working methodically through my long locks. Over the next hour, she tossed and rummaged through my hair, chopping off curls.
I just sat there, sipping champagne; listening to a song I had never heard before, accompanied by tattooed friends, staring at the mirror at my changing face – as my locks dropped to the floor.
A lump formed somewhere in my throat – may be tear too.