Feeling Foolish or the Blind Barber

One of the most endearing characters I came across during my travels in India was a barber in the village of Kheradergarh in Rajasthan.

He told us he was a “travelling barber”, and he carried an old bag, a former armaments case, to prove it. As we sat under a neem tree worshipped for its medicinal value in healing wounds, he took out his various instruments used in his day to day work.

And then he proceeded to show us how he cut nose hair and cleaned ears.

We wondered how he managed, because he wore thick government-issue glasses, and complained that as his eyesight deteriorated nobody wanted to have him cut their hair or shave them any more.

“What about your children? Do they help

?” we asked.

“Hmph, my children, they are useless,” he said. We dubbed him the blind barber, which wasn’t very kind. With no governmental social services, he was doomed in his old age to the care of the local Hindu temple.

We’d earlier visited a potter, who showed us how he made pots on his wheel. When his son knocked his new creation over and broke it he muttered in Hindi: “Here we go again!”

He lived mainly by bartering, exchanging his pots for milk from the shepherd, who we had earlier visited. In his humble abode, a huge poster of Bollywood star Ajay Devgan held pride of place.

I joked that he looked like Devgan and was given a withering look as if to say, “You are a bloody idiot”.

As we arrived in the village a group of women wearing vibrantly coloured saris walked towards us, singing a welcome song.

"That's nice," I said.

“Well they’re actually being quite cheeky and making fun of you,” our guide explained.

"It's a bit like somebody singing the wedding waltz as you walk in the door."

Again I felt foolish.

Earlier that day we had visited the Sirilar Prajapat Government Upper Primary School in nearby Nimaj.

We had started by telling the kids about Australian native animals, with one of the group drawing a platypus on the board in chalk.

"Sir, sir, it's a seahorse," one child called out.

But it wasn't Australian animals they were interested in. This year eight group had more pressing matters in mind.

"Does your country have the nuclear bomb?" one fresh-faced youth asked.

"Why is your country with such a small population so developed?" asked another.

"Does your country have a caste system?" (They looked perplexed when we tried to explain that we didn't, and status was based more on money rather than what group you were born into.)

"What is your marriage system? How does it work?"

"What is the name of your prime minister?" (They of course knew the name of our cricket captain and several players.)

The girls were shyer, although one stood up and sang for us. Another asked us to sing an Australian song, and probably regretted it, as we embarrassed ourselves by performing a bad rendition of Waltzing Matilda.

One thing you have to get used to when travelling in countries such as India is looking like a fool. But meeting these kids and eve the blind barber with his familiar tale of familial exasperation brought another thought. We're all the same under the skin - pretty damn funny.