There is a very peculiar association of a barbershop with ‘manhood’ in India. They lurk around street corners; sometimes a tiny hole in the wall nestled between the grocer’s and the scrap dealer’s, at other times just a mirror nailed to a tree, with a barber’s chair placed before it. And yet, the very ‘macho’ image that such a saloon evokes is softened by the sight of a man sitting with a ‘pack’ plastered on his face. Male vanity is a real thing, and that is what these saloons subtly cater to.

Barbershops are the very epicentre of gossip within a neighbourhood, with everything from politics to the weather, births, deaths, and philosophy being discussed here. Faithful clients get news free with a shave, a haircut or a massage. Who says gossip is only reserved for women.

This photo-essay tries to capture some of the age-old essence of a barbershop that has fascinated me ever since I was a young boy. The unique and the quintessential both find a place here; just as the barbers that you come across could be either chatty or monosyllabic. This photo-essay is not simply about getting a shave, a haircut or being pampered by someone; it is also about the conversations you have and the people you meet in an unlikely place. Sometimes, when the haircut or the shave is over and you have to leave, you wish it could have gone on a little longer.

Text by Manvi Gautam | Photographs by Sagar Shiriskar